Twentyone days
by evil minded
Summary: AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days? How will they deal with everything thrown their way due to "the tragedy of Hogwarts" as reporters call it? Accompany them on their struggle to stay alive ... thanks ...
1. prologue, how all of this began

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Chapter one**

**Day one - Monday, second of September**

**Prologue - How all of this began**

Cursing silently Harry asked himself why this year the first of September couldn't have been a Friday. He would have the entire weekend then to recover before he had to go to his first classes. Not that those two days really would be enough to recover completely, but at least he would have been able to sleep through the weekend and catch up most of the sleep he had missed at the Dursleys. And with a bit of luck he would have been ready to eat more than half a toast without throwing up. Not to mention the fact that maybe his injuries would have healed at least enough so that he would hurt only when he moved and not even without moving.

But as it was – the first of September had been Sunday and now the first day of classes was Monday - and thus he had to fight himself through the entire week, knowing that it would be much harder for him to deal with his tiredness, his weakness and his injuries as he wouldn't have much time to rest.

And to make things just worse, the first class they had today – was double potions, with Snape. Just what he needed.

He hadn't slept well last night, had been plagued with nightmares and still he was as tired as he had been yesterday evening. But, well – that wasn't anything new. The first night back at Hogwarts was always like this after all.

However, it would be a hell of a day, and most likely a hell of a week and he suppressed a groan while he sat at one of the desks in the back row of the classroom, Ron sitting at another desk beside him and Hermione on a desk beside Ron. He always searched a seat in the back of the room, knowing that he wouldn't have anyone in his back then, knowing that he wouldn't have to look over his back then, knowing that he only had to concentrate onto the rows of desks in front of him.

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"You know, Albus, I don't understand _why_ in Merlin's name Alastor wanted to teach the Slytherins separated." Minerva shook her head, gazing at the headmaster with mistrust in her eyes. "He even suggested he could teach the three other houses together as long as he had the Slytherins alone. I don't understand it."

"I can assure you, Minerva, whatever motivation Alastor has, it will be a reasonable one." Albus answered, smiling slightly at the deputy headmistress. "But whatever reason it was, it simply isn't possible. He cannot teach one house separated and the other three houses together. Hogwarts has its structure and even Alastor has to bend to it."

"What I am glad for, Albus." Minerva growled. "Honestly, I do not really trust his motivations. It isn't as if he asked to teach _Gryffindor_ separated."

"What is it that you're trying to say, Minerva?" Albus asked, not really understanding.

"If you remember correctly, then I have told you during the holidays that I do _not_ trust Alastor." Minerva huffed at him. "He acts strange lately."

"Alastor has always been strange and he has always been overreacting, Minerva." Albus answered. "But he always has proved himself trustworthy. He is one of the Order members."

"I do know this, Albus, but that doesn't ease my mind." Minerva shook her head and sighed heavily. "Alastor always might have overreacted with his _'constant vigilance'_ but honestly, the stunts he pulled lately are just not like him. He isn't himself."

"So, what is it you suggest?" Albus' eyes watched her with a serious gaze. He knew that he could trust Alastor, but he also knew that he could trust Minerva's gut feeling too. The fact that she was an animagus and a cat at that, had often given him the impression that she somehow had a seventh sense.

"I just want you to watch him closely, Albus." Minerva answered. "As will do I."

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"I do hope that Barty is ready." McNair whispered, as if someone would be able to hear him here between the trees of the forbidden forest. Well, no one knew what kind of wards the old fool of a headmaster had erected around the castle's grounds.

"He simply has to be ready, and now silence. Crabbe and Goyle, you stay between the half-giant's hut and the forbidden forest, covering our attack with a bit of a havoc." Lucius Malfoy gave out his orders with his usual cold voice. "Nott and McNair, you stay outside, watching the front doors and ensuring a safe retreat after the attack. The rest of you will follow me towards and then inside the castle. Wands out!"

They all obeyed immediately without so much of a question on their lips. Crabbe and Goyle went towards the edge of the forbidden forest, immediately casting fireballs that flew towards Hagrid's hut, causing some explosions while the rest of the Death Eaters went along the edge of the forest towards the castle, staying as long as possible in the tree's shadows before they had to cross the open field to reach the castle. With a bit of luck they would be unnoticed by Dumbledore and his crowd of teachers as they were approaching from the castle's left side while Crabbe and Goyle just attacked the half giant's hut.

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"If you add the salamander blood before the potion turned green then you will have your cauldron exploded, Mr. Nott." Snape growled darkly, gripping the boy's wrist and startling the fourth year Slytherin with that action who tried to get his wrist out of the Potions Master's harsh grip momentarily before he noticed that it was only his head of house and relaxed.

Snape knew that he had startled Theodore, and that was something he didn't wish, but if the cauldron exploded now, then not only Nott would be hurt but other students as well. And if he had to startle a student in order to prevent such, then be it. Even if it was a student he knew was jumpy in the first place.

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"I am sure your worries are unnecessary, Minerva." Albus said, giving away a heavy sigh. "But I can assure you that Severus already will have an eye on Alastor. You know …"

"What in Merlin's name …"

Minerva had been standing at the window and she had seen the fireballs flowing from the forbidden forest towards Hagrid's hut and a second later both of them could hear the sound of an explosion and the large building stood in flames.

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"Quickly now, we have to cross the field." Lucius commanded. "At the first sign of hexes - cast whatever you can think of. I do not mind what it is as long as it is at least successful."

They did cross the open field that led to the front of the castle, Lucius in the lead, Nott and McNair at his sides and followed by the rest of the Death Eaters. The blond Death Eater was smiling when he felt the rush of adrenaline flooding his system. That it was what most of the others didn't understand. The feeling of the adrenaline running through his body whenever he was in the front line, leading an attack, knowing that he could die easily, but hopefully wouldn't.

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And then three things happened at the same time.

Outside at the grounds, in front of the entrance doors, Death Eaters appeared, casting spells at the heavy wooden doors, knowing that the attack was in vain the moment the castle sent out a red glower.

Inside the castle Dumbledore and McGonagall tried to cast the counter spells, knowing that they had lost the moment the castle shut itself off.

And down in the dungeons Crabbe's and Goyle's cauldron exploded.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

Hearing a cauldron to his left bubbling and sizzling dangerously and knowing that the potion was about to explode, Snape turned on his spot and cast a shield charm around the exploding cauldron as quickly as possible, hoping that he was in time to prevent the accident. How was it that Crabbe, Goyle and Longbottom got their cauldrons to explode whenever he turned his back on them to concentrate on another student? And why did those stupid idiots have to add the salamander blood too early before the potion turned green? Making the same mistake he just _ten _seconds ago had prevented Nott from doing and _explained_ it?

Gritting his teeth in frustration he looked around and with another wave of his wand the smoke that had settled over the cauldrons was gone. None of the students were injured, they only had been startled. Potter especially, he noticed and his gaze darkened. The boy always was as jumpy as was Theodore whenever he came back from the summer holidays and he wondered what exactly he was up to, that would make him so nervous.

The nervousness Theodore always displayed shortly after the holidays had a reason. Not so the nervousness Potter displayed. Potter never showed fear in the first place. Not even yet while being jumpy and nervous. He rather looked – angry, irritated, and annoyed, even at his friends.

Even _now_ he was not scared. The boy's breathing was rapid and his hands shook violently, his face was pale to death for a moment and he had to close his eyes and to take a deep breath in order to get himself back under control, but there was not the same fear in his eyes that the other children who were as close to the exploded cauldron as was Potter showed on their faces.

Yet, the brat _was_ pale. And he seemed to be tired. And more bony than he liked.

Well, yes. Potter _always_ had been scrawny somehow, but the skinniness he wore since he was back from the holidays was just ridiculous and he even had considered to have a word with Minerva when he had seen Potter last night at the welcoming feast so she may take the boy out of classes for a few days, just to be on the safe side, to make sure he ate and slept enough for some time so that his body could recover. From whatever it was he had to recover in the first place.

"Class dismissed." He growled darkly, his voice making clear that there was no room for argument or hesitation and that they better left within the next thirty seconds if they wished to survive the day - or the next five minutes.

With another flick of his wand the potion was gone from the cauldron and the floor surrounding the area where the explosion had happened, and the now defect cauldron itself floated towards the sink. The last remaining fumes slowly went into nothingness and the moment he had the damage done to the classroom under control he could see the students still lingering at the entrance door to the classroom.

"What exactly did you not understand when I said class dismissed?" He asked, his voice deadly calm.

"Well, sir." Draco took the courage to turn and address his head of house. "The door is locked."

"Locked?" Snape asked in annoyance. "And which imbeciles of you _did _lock the door?"

"Well, no one of us, sir." Pansy Parkinson answered. "I reached the door first and it already was locked then."

"Make room!" Snape snapped impatiently. Could this day get any more wrong somehow? He wasn't even stupid enough to try the door handle but pointed his wand at the lock instead, murmuring a quiet "alohomora", wondering why the idiots hadn't tried this one by themselves. But nothing happened. The door still was locked.

Frowning he tried a few more unlocking spells before he turned towards the students, casting searching looks at their faces, trying to find something like guilt in their eyes. But again, there was nothing.

Wordlessly he turned back towards the door, trying every remaining spell that came to his mind and that might somehow unlock the damn door. But again without any success. He just couldn't open the door.

Knowing that there was no spell left he turned back towards the students.

"Floo." He curtly said, quickly striding through the classroom towards the fireplace and grabbing the tin with the floo powder from the mantelpiece, he threw the grey powder into the hearth. "Headmaster's office." He growled, mentioning one of them who stood nearest to step into the fire. It was Theodore, but once more nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. The grey powder fell to the ground and mingled there with the ashes from the fireplace.

"Get back out, Mr. Nott." He said, sighing heavily. "You all will stay here in the classroom and there will be no fighting. I will go to my office and contact the headmaster from there."

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Well, it wasn't that he'd had more success with the floo in his office and swiftly he went towards the door that led to his private quarters, but that door too was locked and silently he cursed under his breath. Of course he tried every unlocking spell he knew but again the door remained close. Even Marlow Venenatus, the old Potions Master who guarded the door to his chambers was absent from his frame and again he cursed silently. Where was that old fool?

The fact itself, the fact that Marlow was not there told him enough. The old wizard was not a social man either, just like him, he never left his frame – normally. And the fact that he had left now, was proof enough to Snape that something was very wrong, whatever this something was.

"Zilly." He quietly called his house elf. Maybe Zilly could reach the headmaster and get back a portkey or something similar to get the students out. But yet again, nothing happened. Zilly did not come and that too was not normal. Zilly, who was his personal house elf since he had been a small child was more than loyal and he knew, even if the small creature was set free since a long time now, when it concerned his work as a spy in a dangerous war, he always could trust this particular house elf.

Well, he didn't know what exactly was going on right now, but whatever it was, they were cut off from every means of transportation out of the classroom or the office and for a moment he considered the situation.

Most likely they soon would be missed and then Albus would come and get them out of here. Probably the dungeons door could be opened from the outside. Maybe just an outside student had played a prank on them and locked them in.

'_Then you would have been able to open the door with a simple spell.'_ A small voice in his head argued.

Well, whatever the situation was, the headmaster would be able to solve the problem from outside, he was sure.

But if not, well, every potions laboratory had to hold a small kitchen, a single bathroom with a toilet and a shower, and a rest room. And therefore – _this _laboratory too held those rooms of course. They surely would survive a few hours.

'_And what if it will be a few days?'_ The small voice in his head asked and he quickly brushed this idea aside. It surely wouldn't take a few days until they were missed and the headmaster had found a way to either get inside or to get them out. His only problem right now would be to keep the students calm.

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Harry looked up when Snape came back and he watched the man for a few seconds. Snape was standing in the doorway to his office, his arms folded in front of his chest and his mask firmly in place. Nevertheless he could see something like concern and something else he couldn't place radiating from the dark eyes of the Potions Master and immediately he knew that the man had not been successful. Well, somehow he had known. He was Harry Fucking Potter after all, enemy to damn Voldemort and weapon to blasted Dumbledore and of course he couldn't have a break.

When he came back to the classroom he could see them all standing around in groups, just as he had left them ten minutes ago and he sighed a sigh of relief. They hadn't killed each other yet. They all turned their eyes towards him and their faces were pale, shocked and they definitely were scared, his Slytherins showing their fear less, the Gryffindors showing their fear more clearly - aside from Potter. The boy even nodded in understanding before he – Snape – even shook his head to indicate that he had not been able to use the floo in his office either and the mask the boy wore never changed. But they all were alright still.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the first night  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	2. the first night

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Twenty-one days**

_When he came back to the classroom he could see them all standing around in groups, just as he had left them ten minutes ago and he sighed a sigh of relieve. They hadn't killed each other yet. They all turned their eyes towards him and their faces were pale, shocked and they definitely were afraid, his Slytherins showing their fear less, the Gryffindors showing their fear more clearly - aside from Potter. The boy even nodded in understanding before he – Snape – even shook his head to indicate that he had not been able to use the floo in his office either and the mask the boy wore never changed. But they all were alright still._

**Chapter two**

**Day one - Monday, second of September**

**The first night**

They had been down here since the entire day now and it was evening, the other students surely would be in the great hall for dinner right now and he growled darkly at the prospect that they might be locked down here for a few hours more as it seemed, maybe even the entire night. But well, at least none of them had gotten into a panic attack so far and that was a small relief at least.

He had tried the doors, the floo and calling his house elf a few more times so far, but each time it had been in vain.

Well, at least Marlow had been back in his frame at one point and he had gathered a few informations then.

**Flashback**

_"Where in Merlin's name have you been, Venenatus?" Snape asked impatiently as soon as he entered his office around noon and – again, and again in vain – had tried to open the door that led to his private quarters. "Would you be as kind as to letting me into my quarters finally?"_

_"I would, Severus, if I could." The ancient Potions Master answered. "But unfortunately I can't."_

_"And care to tell me, why ever not?" Snape wanted to know, his patience running short. It was half past twelve and he wanted the students out and in the great hall for lunch. Some of them already had complained about being hungry. He would cancel the rest of his classes today, that one was for sure._

_"Because the door is locked by the castle." _

_"What is the meaning of this? Locked by the castle?" Snape growled darkly. "And where, in Merlin's name, have you been earlier?" _

_"Well, after I noticed the change in the locks, I went upstairs to ask the other paintings what was wrong." Marlow answered, his voice very serious, something that immediately alarmed Snape. Marlow was a serious man, yes, but he also was a man that rarely sounded as serious as he did right now. "And I fear that the situation is grave. The castle has been attacked by Death Eaters and – that is what I heard – Dumbledore has cast a counter spell to one of their spells. They mixed together somehow, hit the entrance door of the castle and Hogwarts herself has reacted, has shut down each door within."_

_"You mean every class is locked up in different rooms?" Snape asked incredulously. Those were indeed grave news. _

_"Well, they have been, yes. But the headmaster has been able to convince the castle to open those doors. They all are free now."_

_"Good." Severus sighed another sigh of relief. "So I guess we too will be out of here soon."_

_"I fear not." Marlow answered quietly, his voice getting even more serious with his words._

_"And why ever not?" Snape asked exasperated. The headmaster surely would get them out soon too. He probably had worked his way from the upper levels down to the hallways and was now about to approach the dungeons. _

_"I take it that one of your students had caused an accident this morning?" Marlow asked. "I have heard one of the cauldrons exploding, at the same time the stray spell hit the front doors and the castle has shut down. That at least is what Dumbledore thinks after I told him of the exploded cauldron. And somehow all what had happened at that precise time had reacted badly and neither the castle nor Dumbledore can open up the corridors that lead to the Dungeons. Each corridor that leads down from the entrance hall as well as the side corridors and the shortcuts are cut off at their ends. He tried the floo, he tried to send a house elf down here and he even tried to make a portkey. Right now he and Minerva are trying to find another way to reach you."_

_"Has any other student been injured during the attack?" Snape asked, just to get as much information as possible. "And who exactly has attacked in the first place? Which spells have been used?"_

_"No one has been injured, Severus." Marlow said. "Hagrid's hut had been on fire. Probably a diversion. But no one is injured. The spell the Death Eaters used we do not know, but the spell the headmaster used has been a protective spell based on a confounds charm in order to hide the castle itself."_

_"And he didn't think that he might have startled the castle by trying to hide it?" Snape growled darkly. "What maybe had been the reason as to why the castle had shut down in the first place?"_

_"I don't now, Severus." The older wizard shook his head. "None of the other teachers mentioned something like that. But it could be possible. What exact potion did your student manage to blow up anyway?"_

_"We were brewing the fourth year healing potion for severe burns, the exustio potion. Crabbe and Goyle, those imbeciles, added the salamander blood too soon, before the potion turned green, and their cauldron exploded."_

_"A rather dangerous potion when exploding." Marlow grimaced. "Someone got hurt?"_

_"Fortunately not." Snape growled, his mind racing a mile per minute. "I have been able to cast a shield charm before the actual explosion when I heard the sizzling. How could this explosion have affected the castle's shutdown to a point where Hogwarts herself wouldn't be able to open up the dungeons anymore anyway?"_

_"That we do not know, Severus." Marlow answered. "I will go and give the information you just gave me to Dumbledore. Maybe he can find an answer."_

_"You better come back with either a solution or more information." Severus threatened darkly._

_"I will." Marlow answered seriously, not impressed by the Potions Master's threatening. He was already dead since long after all.  
_

**End flashback**

And right now Snape went back to his potions classroom - again. After he once more had tried everything he knew could get them out. And after - once again - finding the frame empty. Marlow had _not_ come back as he had promised earlier in the day.

He didn't want the students being alone for a long time in a row. Not that he feared they would cause any trouble, but he knew that they, or at least some of them, could get into a panic attack at any moment now. It wouldn't take much, he knew. And he could quite understand them as well. He too was close to snap at any moment. Not because he was close to panicking, surely not, but because the situation was just annoying to no end. Not only were they locked down here in the dungeons for the entire day now after a Death Eater attack and neither the headmaster nor any other teacher had been able to reach them, but they probably were about to face a night down here too. Not to mention the fact that Marlow had not returned yet from Dumbledore.

He had explained the situation to the students, trying to choose words as harmless as possible and to assure them that soon the headmaster would find a way to free them, but they all had recognized how severe the situation was and most of them had been looking quite scared. So he quickly went back now to the classroom.

Yet - he'd just _had_ to try the floo again. Maybe it would have been able to contact the headmaster or at least any other teacher by now. But nothing, the fireplace was as dead as was anything else - just as all the times he had tried before. They still were cut off from the castle and from the wizarding world.

Draco was sitting in a corner when he re-entered the classroom, together with Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore and Blaise, whispering quietly to each other. Pansy, Millicent and Daphne were sitting at a table in the middle of the classroom, doing the same, and Tracy was sitting in another corner, alone, staring ahead into space.

Granger, Weasley and Longbottom were sitting at another table, discussing as quietly as his Slytherins. Thomas and Finnigan were sitting on the floor in the middle of the backside of the classroom, and Brown and Patil were sitting at another table, their heads together too.

Well, at least none of them cried, screamed, misbehaved or – well, panicked. They all were quiet and they all seemed to try and figure out what had happened in the first place and how it affected them, and he was glad for that. He was not a man who easily gave away comfort, at least not to other students apart from his snakes. And the last thing he wanted to do right now was to comfort some students that had gotten into a panic attack.

They all were looking at him expectantly when he re-entered the classroom and he sighed before he wordlessly shook his head, watching their reaction to the bad news. The Slytherins nodded curtly at his headshaking while the Gryffindors sighed and turned back to whispering to each other.

Only when he noticed that the clinking to his left had stopped for a moment when he had entered he noticed that there had been that sound in the first place, but now, after his headshake it continued and Snape went over to the sink where Potter was scrubbing cauldrons, wondering why Potter was scrubbing them in the first place. He hadn't ordered him to.

"Eager to become skilled at scrubbing cauldrons for your next detention, Potter?" He asked with a cold glare and for a moment Potter stopped his scrubbing. Yet – he didn't look at him, just stopped his scrubbing for a moment and then resumed in his work without giving him an answer.

Scowling down at the teen he was about to give another scathing comment away, but then he thought better of it. Even if Potter had not answered his comment – that had been meant as a sarcastic but rhetorical question anyway, it would do none of them any good if he pushed the situation that was difficult enough as it already was right now.

They all had to deal with the situation in their own individual ways and if Potter chose to do some work to get his mind off the events, then be it.

So he sighed and turned, sitting at his desk. If he was stuck here with the students, then he would get some work done, grading the first essays that had been handed in, the homework from the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Yet – his gaze often wandered over the students, watching them close.

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It was nearly two hours later and Potter had scrubbed each cauldron when he went back to his Gryffindor fellows, sitting down beside Weasley who looked at him strangely.

He had noticed Weasley shooting such looks at Potter more and more often during the past two hours while Potter had been scrubbing those cauldrons and at one point the red-head even had gone over to the sink, asking Potter what he was doing.

Potter had blinked at him and had countered his question with the counter question if it wasn't obvious what he was doing and Weasley had been shaking his head, asking if he were crazy. Potter had just shrugged his shoulders, continuing his scrubbing and at some point Weasley had gone back to Granger and Longbottom, shaking his head and watching Potter as if his friend had gone mad.

Draco, Theodore, and Blaise together with Crabbe and Goyle were still sitting at a table, whispering to each other while the Slytherin girls did the same at a table beside them. They seemed to be calm still, scared somehow, understandably, but calm. Theodore had been over once, asking him if they would have to sleep here and Snape had answered him with a "regrettably yes". He had known the reason as to why the boy had asked this question and in a whispered voice he had promised him that he would wake him if he had a nightmare, as he'd had the dreamless sleep potion just the night before and he couldn't take it again this night. He knew that the boy had those nightmares for a few weeks whenever he came back to school after the summer holidays.

Theodore had been shaking his head, had told him in an equal hushed voice that he rather didn't want the Gryffindors knowing that he had nightmares in the first place.

Snape had sighed and – even if he normally was against such, he had promised the boy that he would cast a silencing spell at him as soon as he fell asleep. He didn't like his snakes casting such spells to hide their nightmares. If no one could hear them, then no one could wake them.

It had taken Theodore up to the end of his second year until he had finally accepted his words, but he had and now the boy was worried that the Gryffindors would find out about his nightmares. Again – understandably.

Most of the Slytherins knew. They were used to each other, they knew each other, and a lot of them had similar fears to those Theodore had. They understood each other. The Gryffindors would not understand, they most likely would taunt them afterwards. Well, he would allow Theodore this spell for at least tonight and he just would have to watch the boy during the night so he would be able to wake him if necessary.

"How can you be so calm, Harry?" He heard Weasley asking, his voice a bit louder than it had been a moment before and just on the edge of panicking. "We are locked down here!"

"Yes, we are." Potter answered, his voice low and he only could understand his words because he now concentrated onto their conversation. "But they will be able to get us out eventually."

"Eventually, yes." Weasley growled. "But we are _locked_, Harry. Together with _Snape_ and the _Slytherins_."

"Well, so are they." Potter answered, shrugging his shoulders and Snape had to suppress a snort. Once in his life Potter was right.

"And you don't care that you are locked down here for Merlin knows how long?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Are you crazy, mate? How could it be worse?" Weasley demanded.

"You could be locked in a cupboard, couldn't you?" Potter answered and again Snape had to suppress a snort. Potter definitely had a point, and a nearly annoying sense of optimism - and humor.

"However, I'm hungry." Weasley complained. Well, that was a sentence that he had heard a few times during the day and not only from Weasley but from others as well. The only one who hadn't complained about that had been Theodore, Tracy and – as startling as it was – Potter.

"I know, Ron." Potter simply answered.

"I guess we all are." Was the first sentence Granger threw into this conversation and Longbottom nodded.

"Well, maybe Snape has some frogs here we could roast?" Weasley asked, nearly sounding hopefully, garnering a distasteful look from the others and he nearly snorted once again. But then he quickly grew serious. He would have to keep an eye on them during the night. All of them definitely were hungry, but even if he indeed _had_ frogs down here, they were long dead and pickled in poisoning fluids.

"Don't be stupid, Ronald Weasley!" Granger had the sense to answer. "I'm sure whatever you could find here is not for eating, probably even poisoning."

Potter sighed and shook his head. He got up and for a moment Snape thought that the boy actually might be stupid enough to really search for something he could eat. He even prepared himself that this now would be the first moment he would have to deal with a hungry, tired and panicking student. But Potter just picked up one of his books, history of magic, he noticed, and placed it at the floor in a corner of the classroom, drew his wand and pointed it at the book, enlarging it before he cast a cushioning charm at it, thus creating a mattress.

Well, the fourth years hadn't yet learned how to transfigure larger furniture.

"Go and get some sleep, Ron." He said, enlarging and cushioning another book, Weasley's 'history of magic'. "I need more books." The boy then added.

"How could I sleep now?" Weasley complained giving Potter his book bag while Granger shook her head, pressing her book bag against her chest as if Potter tried to take her life from her. "I'm just hungry."

"Then try to sleep." Potter answered, forming a third book into a mattress.

Well, normally he would have gotten Potter's backside for such a stunt, changing books into beds and placing them along the walls without asking for permission beforehand, but right now he had to admit that the boy had a point. They would need something to sleep on anyway. And honestly, their situation was difficult and tiring enough, he really shouldn't add more stress onto them with his sarcastic comments, even if it was Potter. They all had reacted rather well to this damn situation up to now, even the Gryffindors, he had to admit that.

"How could sleeping help?" Weasley asked while rolling his eyes at Granger, taking Longbottom's book bag and reaching it to Potter.

"It just helps." Potter said, creating the next mattress. "Just do it, try to sleep."

Getting to his feet Snape went over to the students.

"Potter is right, Mr. Weasley." He said when he went by the Gryffindors. "Sleeping _will_ help, so I suggest you try just that. There are more books in the cupboard, Potter."

Then he began transfiguring sheets of parchments into pillows and blankets. They wouldn't be really warm, he knew, there was only so much one could do with magic and changing parchments into blankets – well, it would be easier if he had towels or something akin to begin with. But there were only two towels in the bathroom that was added to the laboratory and too much students to share them so it would be unfair if two had warm blankets and the others just thin ones.

He just would have to cast a warming spell onto them during the night.

He frowned when he transfigured the next blanket that had ink spots on it. He really had to concentrate more on what he did. Casting a glance at Potter he noticed that the teen looked with a frustrated frown at his own wand.

"What is it, Potter?" He asked, not able to keep his tongue. "Not able to do more than ten minutes of magic? How disappointing."

But his next blanket had ink spots too and the next pillow had even written words that definitely proved – it was an essay from Longbottom's third year.

Potter's next mattress was slightly thinner than the other mattresses and not quite as soft as the first ones had been, and again he frowned. What in Merlin's name was wrong now?

However, soon eighteen mattresses with pillows and blankets – some of them with half an essay written on it, were lined at the wall and gritting his teeth Snape turned back to the students, ordering them to bed. He would stay awake, making sure that none of them tried some foolish stunt in form of searching for something to eat that most likely was either poisonous or would make them ill.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

Harry was frustrated to no end.

He knew, would he lay down and go to sleep right now, then he would have nightmares and that was something that simply was not an option. He never even allowed his fellow Gryffindors to know about them and cast a silencing spell around his bed, and surely he would not allow the Slytherins to witness them either. The problem was – he wouldn't be able to cast a silencing spell around his mattress. Somehow his wand didn't work anymore. And neither did Snape's or someone else's.

He didn't really understand why, but somehow the magic in these rooms were – tired, dead, worn out, whatever, he didn't know. And thus, well, he just would have to stay awake this night in hopes that in the morning Dumbledore would have found a way to get them all out of here. He would skip classes for the entire week then.

Well, of course he would not. But honestly, he would like to.

Snape had similar thoughts, wondering why in Merlin's name none of them were able to do any more magic down here, why in Merlin's name Marlow didn't come back, and why in Merlin's name Dumbledore hadn't found a way to free them yet.

So much for casting warming charms on them during the night and he cursed under his breath, knowing that they soon would begin to freeze. But there was nothing he could do about that right now. It was only one night and they would survive this one night.

'_And what if it won't be just this one night?'_ The same small voice asked that had made itself known earlier during the day. _'What if no one will come to get you out anytime soon?' _Sighing in frustration he shoved the small voice aside and forced himself to concentrate onto the present situation.

His Slytherins still were calm, just whispering to each other, laying on the quickly made beds, some of them really trying to sleep while others read a book or just whispered to their classmates.

The Gryffindors were another matter, Weasley had been the first that had sounded more than just – frightened, worried, even if Potter had kept the situation under control. If Potter had not reacted with a clear head and calm, then maybe the situation would have gone out of hands, but Potter had, to his great surprise. And right now Potter was sitting on his mattress, reading, while Weasley already snored and Granger too had a book in her hands.

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It was two hours later and each student was sleeping by now, except of Theodore and Potter.

He knew that Theodore didn't want to sleep, knowing that he wouldn't be able to cast a silencing spell at him, knowing that he couldn't take dreamless sleep this night either and the boy had taken to write his potions essay in order to prevent sleep.

Well, he would allow Theodore this night. The boy could sleep as soon as they were out of here tomorrow. He knew that he wouldn't do him any good if he forced him to sleep now and even if he normally made a point to his students regarding curfew, right now he thought that staying awake and avoiding a nightmare was more important for Theodore.

Potter on the other hand had taken a bucket with warm water from the sink, had added a cleaning agent and then had grabbed some old cleaning clothes. And right now Snape secretly watched the irritating teen cleaning the upper shelves that lined the walls, standing on a desk in order to reach those shelves even.

Well, he had two possibilities. He either could allow the Gryffindor to continue with his irritating task, or he could force him to bed. But he knew that he had to talk to him first, never mind what he decided. Maybe the teen had a reason as to why he avoided sleep, maybe he just wasn't tired and tried to tire himself out, maybe he was too worried to sleep. Never mind what, he had to talk to him and he groaned inwardly at alone the thought of that.

"Potter." He quietly called over, loud enough so the boy would hear him, but not as loud for the other students to wake up. Only Theodore lifted his head and watched him before he cast a curious glance at Potter and then resumed in his work. Yet – there was something in the boy's eyes that he didn't recognize when he gazed over at the Gryffindor. A strange look.

He shoved it towards the back of his mind to think about later. Right now he had a conversation to hold that he did not look forwards to.

Potter looked over at him and when he pointed towards his office and got up, the boy silently climbed down from the desk and slowly walked over, followed him into his office. He threw a worried gaze at him when he closed the door behind them but Snape ignored it and sat behind his desk.

"Sit." He said, pointing at the chair in front of his desk and reluctantly Potter did as he was told, sat down onto the edge of the chair as if he feared it would bite.

"Care to tell me as to why you would clean out the shelves instead of going to sleep?" Snape asked, trying to keep his sarcasm out of his voice and words.

"I'm sorry, sir." Potter answered and Snape couldn't help but lifting his eyebrow. "I'm just not tired."

"Try again, Potter." Snape answered, his dark eyes never leaving the boy's green ones.

"Well, I couldn't sleep anyway, sir." Potter finally answered. "And I'll be silent. I won't wake the others."

"I am not worried over your classmate's sleep only, Potter." He said, sighing in frustration. Never mind how much he loathed it, but he had to try and be civil with the boy. "But over yours as well. You need a few hours of sleep."

"I'll be fine, Professor." Potter had the nerve to say and for a moment he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"As long as you go to sleep as soon as you _are_ tired." He finally answered, knowing that he either could fight with the teenager what surely would not help at all and only would result in an upset student, or that he just could give in for now and allow the damn boy to stay awake in which case he possibly would go to bed eventually. "And as long as you won't disturb your classmate's sleep. I am sure that at some time tomorrow we will be out of here but as long as they are sleeping they do not have the time to worry and I would prefer you doing the same soon."

"And what if we won't, sir?" Potter asked, addressing the same question that he had asked himself a few times up to now and somehow he did not have the heart to bark at the boy. Potter was just as frightened as the rest of them were, even if he didn't show it as openly as Weasley or Tracy did.

"I'm sure we will, Potter." He finally answered, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Potter this time just nodded, accepting his answer and after a confirming nod from the Potions Master the boy got up, left the office and went back to cleaning the shelves while Snape too got back to his desk in the classroom to read through some of his lesson plans for the upcoming year as he had no more essays to grade.

He still had to make sure that neither of them would do anything foolish in order to find something to eat during the night and for a moment he watched Potter more closely, wondering if maybe that was the reason as to why the boy was cleaning the shelves in the first place, trying to find a jar containing something to eat.

But then – no. Potter just took jar for jar and cleaned it, just to place it back on the shelf without inspecting it any further.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_they are the same like we  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	3. they are the same like we

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He still had to make sure that neither of them would do anything foolish in order to find something to eat during the night and for a moment he watched Potter more closely, wondering if maybe that was the reason as to why the boy was cleaning the shelves in the first place, trying to find a jar containing something to eat._

_But then – no. Potter just took jar for jar and cleaned it, just to place it back on the shelf without inspecting it any further._

**Chapter three**

**Day two - Tuesday, third of September**

**They are the same like we**

It had been a rather irritating night and he was tired, he had to admit, even though it wasn't the first night in his life during which he had not slept. A sleepless night was nothing new to him, honestly. If you were a spy in a dangerous war, acting for two madmen, a dark wizard on one hand and an old wizard that _might_ seem to be a kind grandfather but was a mad old warrior in reality, then a sleepless night every now and then was inevitable. Not to mention that being a head of a house, and head of Slytherin at that, meant that you had to be prepared for settling scared first years at the beginning of each term, tend to nightmares, to injuries or – simply students who wanted to keep themselves from sleeping in order to avoid nightmares or needed to talk to someone – that too mostly during the night.

And thus – he'd had his good share of sleepless nights throughout the years. But never before had he had such a strange sleepless night. Well, never before had he been locked in the dungeons with an entire class of students. However, it had been an irritating and annoying night, that much was sure.

He had known that Theodore would not sleep. He had known it the moment they had discovered that they would _not_ be able to use any more magic and he therefore would _not_ be able to cast a silencing spell to keep the boy's nightmares from being acknowledged by the Gryffindors.

What he had not been prepared for however, had been Potter being up the entire night too. Not to mention the boy's annoying cleaning to keep himself awake. And nothing else it had been. First he had thought that maybe Potter tried to work himself into tiredness, after a few hours however it had been clear that Potter had been tired enough to drop where he stood. And nevertheless he had not stopped his cleaning that was more than just irritating. During the early morning hours he even had wondered _how_ Potter had managed to still find something left he actually _could _clean. The classroom definitely never had been as clean as it was right now.

Well, it had been this one night and by some time today they would be out of here.

'_Maybe.' T_he small voice in the back of his head teased him and he growled darkly. He left the small kitchen that was attached to his laboratory, his arms folded over his chest while he leaned against the door frame of the classroom and he watched the teenagers that were awake now. All of them, even Weasley, Crabbe and Goyle who had been the last ones to leave the land of the dreaming.

Somehow he wondered if the three of them were related somehow. All three of them had been snoring rather annoyingly during the night, all three of them had been the first to fall asleep and the last to get awake, and all three of them had been sleeping without moving once. Not to mention that all three of them had been the first ones yesterday – and today – to complain about being hungry.

Well, Draco had been sleeping rather restlessly but he had slept through. As had Longbottom and Granger. The rest of the students had been sleeping deeply, turning every now and then while he himself had read his monthly potions magazine to avoid sleep. And luckily none of the students had tried any stupid stunts like searching for anything to eat that most probably would have poisoned them.

Sometime during the morning he had begun to mentally going through his ingredient stocks, trying to find something that would be fit for eating. Just in case. And as it seemed this case was close now as neither during the night nor during the early morning hours now had anyone come to see them out of their prison.

He snorted. He had managed to avoid Azkaban due to Albus giving his testimony at his trial, and nevertheless now he was imprisoned. With the only exception that he would rather sit in a cell in Azkaban right now and alone than here with seventeen students locked in his potions classroom.

Well, alright – if he had to be honest, then no. Nearly everything was better than Azkaban. Nevertheless it was an annoying situation.

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Taking out his transfiguration book from his bag Harry began to read, just so that he could get some time passed.

Snape had told them that hopefully the headmaster would find a way to get them out of here during the day, but honestly, the headmaster might be able to find a way, eventually, maybe. But it might as well be that they would be locked down here for days, even weeks, or even forever. That they would die down here.

Not the most pleasant thought, but honestly, it was possible. He knew that it was. He had been locked in his cupboard for hours and hours, for days and days often enough to know that it _could _be possible. His aunt and uncle _could _have forgotten him in there one day. And even if he would have called out for them before dying, they either would have beaten him to death finally or they simply would have ignored him until he would have been dead.

So – all in all – it just _was_ possible.

But well – at least he would not die in the Dursleys' cupboard. And that at least was something.

Ron watched him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Transfiguration?" The red-head asked, blinking at him.

"Well, better than just sitting here." Harry answered him. "And that's the only book I didn't have changed into a mattress. That and the potions book."

"Uargh." Ron made. "Yes, then definitely transfiguration."

"Sadly we can't practice the spells as we can't do magic." Hermione sighed. "I just wonder why that is."

"Dunno." Harry answered, leaning with his back against the wall and reading. He just was tired and he hoped that he would not fall asleep upon reading. Not to mention that he was hungry and that he felt weak. It had been a few days after all since he last had eaten something. But luckily he had been able to sneak a piece of bread here and there out of the Dursley's kitchen during the summer. He'd been able to do so the night before he had left for Hogwarts. And the night of their return, during the welcoming feast, he had been able to stomach a piece of toast he had nibbled at. So – well, he knew he would be able to go without food for a few days longer. He was experienced in calculating about how much days more he would be able to go without before losing consciousness. He would manage a few days more. Even if he knew that it would _not_ be pleasant. But he would manage.

"If just Dumbledore would find a way soon. I'm really hungry." Ron complained and he tried to ignore it.

"_Professor_ Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley." Snape growled from behind, startling Ron. "And if you wait for an hour longer, then you will _get_ something to eat."

"You have found a way out, Professor?" Ron asked, blinking at the Potions Master.

"Regrettably no, Mr. Weasley." Snape answered with a lifted eyebrow. "But I am sure you will be hungry enough to eat the cataneo roots I am about to cook at that moment."

"Cataneo roots?" Ron asked blinking, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration again.

"You won't be poisoning him, would you, Professor?" Hermione asked, having heard of them never before.

"Surely not, Hermione." Harry murmured without looking up, his thoughts rather absent with reading his transfiguration book and only vacantly answering. "Cataneo roots are not poisonous."

"Strange, Potter." Snape growled and Harry looked up at the man, only now realizing that he had answered Hermione's question aloud and that Snape still stood there, having heard him. And he knew that the next comment would be a snarky one that would hurt him. "If I had known that a locked door would get you to actually pay attention to anything concerning potions, then I would have resorted to lock the classroom door three years ago. Your ability of answering a question correctly has increased since your first potions lesson in my classroom at least."

The Slytherins, who sat on the other side of the fireplace, huddled together just like the Gryffindors, began snickering silently while Ron and Hermione glowered angrily at the Potions Master. Harry however blinked for a moment at Snape in near shock before he sighed and forced himself to concentrate back onto the transfiguration book he was reading. As it seemed he was the only one who had realized that Snape had given him a compliment hidden within his scathing words.

For a moment he wondered why in Merlin's name the man had given him a praise in the first place. And he _knew_ that it had been one, he had seen it in his teacher's face. There had not been the usual disgust and hate on his face that was just indifferent right now. Well, maybe Snape tried to keep the situation as calm as possible, he thought. The man surely would not want to deal with upset students added to hungry and locked ones. For a moment he wondered if Snape would feel as scared as he was, but then he decided that if anyone would be able to handle the situation, then it would be Snape. The man always seemed to be calm, never mind if it was a melted cauldron, an exploded cauldron, or a student coming in contact with a dangerous potion, he never had seen the man losing his calmness and even now Snape seemed to have the upper hand of the situation.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

On his first impulse Snape had wanted to reprimand Potter not only because he had acted like Granger with her know-it-all attitude but also just because he was Potter and he always reprimanded the brat. But after his first words, after addressing Potter, the boy had looked up, seemingly startled at his own words and his green eyes had been far too open for his own good. And right then they had bordered on hurt, on mistrust and on fear. Just as if Potter knew whatever he would have to say would only hurt him once again.

And right then he had known that it would do no good to them if he gave a scathing remark to Potter's answer. The boy had been right after all, wherever he had gained that bit of information from. It wasn't as if the cataneo root was a potion ingredient taught in lesser years. It was only used in two potions and both potions he only had the seventh year students brewing.

So he had settled on giving a comment that would not give him away of not being the usual bastard of a teacher in front of the students but held even a praise if Potter would be intelligent enough to actually listen between the words. And as it seemed, Potter had recognized it as what it had been. Alone the shock on the brat's face had been worth it.

He had handed the roots out as soon as they had been cooked and told the students to eat them while they were still hot. He had cooked seventeen pieces of them so every student would have one and neither would get ideas of asking for more than others had.

He didn't really know why exactly he had taken to safe rations. He at least had told himself during the entire night that soon they would get out, that soon the headmaster would reach them and that soon they would sit in the great hall for breakfast, or for lunch, or at least for dinner. But somehow he had felt the need to keep the few things down here rationed. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but somehow it seemed to be important that he _did_ and at that realisation worry had settled into his stomach. What if his annoying little voice in the back of his mind was right?

He had seventeen students down here. And they were locked, would be locked for only Merlin knew how long. Maybe only for a few more hours. But maybe for days or even weeks. And he knew that he, maybe, by the end of this, would have seventeen dead students on his hands. Gritting his teeth with frustration he let his gaze wander over them and suddenly he was glad that he had _not_ reprimanded Potter earlier when he'd had the chance to.

Speaking of Potter, he lifted his eyebrow at the Gryffindor who just now passed his root towards Weasley who complained about still being hungry and he silently scowled at them. At Potter for lacking any self preservation and at Weasley for complaining when every one of them was just as hungry. On the contrary. Potter already looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in days. And his scowl deepened. He would have to make sure that the brat ate his rations in future.

Hearing a soft sniffling sound he gazed back at his Slytherins and with a silent groan he noticed Tracy Davis crying silently. The girl was sitting alone in a corner again and apparently none of the other Slytherins noticed, too absorbed in their own worries and gloom or sleeping some time away. Well, he could not blame them. Nevertheless he closed his eyes, inwardly cursing. He never had been a man prone to giving comfort that had no meaning. Not like that anyway. Not in form of offering words of nothingness that most likely would be nothing but a lie.

He could offer comfort in form of a few reassuring words, in form of giving an advice or even in form of physical touch after a nightmare. At least to his Slytherins. He was able to give comfort in form of potions when they were ill or otherwise unwell in any means. But this – this situation was just …

Well, as it seemed it simply would be left to him to give this kind of comfort right now, if he liked it or not. And he definitely did _not_ like it, not in front of the Gryffindors who would hold it against his Slytherins later on. Not to mention that he would have to give up his reputation of being an uncaring bastard of a teacher in front of the Gryffindors.

Again it was Potter who disturbed his musings and for a moment he was annoyed at the brat. Until he noticed where the boy headed to and he lifted his eyebrow in curiosity. Potter seated himself onto the mattress beside Tracy, without asking her for permission, just doing it, and softly touched her shoulder. Crabbe and Goyle cast curious looks over at them too, as did Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan, but neither of them reacted.

Tracy looked startled at Potter, but she didn't attack him for coming close while she already was miserable. Potter said something he couldn't understand and the girl nodded. They sat beside each other for a few minutes, just whispering a few words every now and then, but he really did not want to interfere. As long as the girl did not seem upset at Potter he would allow it.

Another few minutes passed during which Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas cast strange looks at Potter and stuck their heads together, Snape noticed, and then Tracy cried again. However, it wasn't any kind of crying that indicated that Potter had upset her and so Snape kept his seat, did nothing but secretly watching.

Again Potter said something, gaining a rather harsh shaking of the girl's head and a few hissed words into the direction the rest of the Gryffindors sat and after another few of Potter's words the brat stood up and left the classroom, walking into his office. And without asking him for permission no less, leaving an upset girl behind that stared after him dumbfounded.

Enough was enough and he would interfere now. At first he would have to calm Miss Davis and then he would have a word with Potter. If he just knew what exactly had been said between the two students. The girl had seemed to be calmed by Potter, as strange as it might sound. A Gryffindor, and a Potter at that, and a miserable Slytherin never boded anything good after all.

Sighing he was about to get up when Miss Davis did so by herself, got up from her mattress and followed Potter into his office.

Now really feeling worried Snape silently followed the girl and stood in the doorway, leaning with his shoulder lazily against the door frame and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

He doubted that Potter would pull any stupid stunts, but he told himself that – better being safe than sorry and he would be damned if he would allow the Gryffindor to hurt one of his snakes.

Lifting his eyebrow he noticed Potter sitting at the floor in the middle of the office, facing the wall to his left and Tracy just now was sitting down too, her back to Potter's back, facing the other wall.

"This really will stay between us, Potter?" The girl softly asked.

"Yes." Potter answered and Snape nearly huffed. As if Potter would stick to his word. It would be a first time a Potter would do so. He never would have trusted James Potter and Tracy should not trust Harry Potter. "I promise." Potter added.

"Me too, then." The girl answered and Snape shook his head.

"Night or day?" Potter suddenly asked and Snape lowered his head to hear better. What exactly had the blasted brat in his nearly none existent but otherwise insufferable mind? "I personally prefer the night." Potter continued. "Because during the night everyone is sleeping and then I can have a bit of freedom for myself."

There were a few moments of silence but then Tracy answered, her voice rather small and still shaking from her crying earlier. "Day." She said. "Because I don't like the dark."

Again there were a few moments of pause before the girl asked a question too.

"Winter or summer?" The girl asked. "I like winter. When everything is white and mum decorates the Christmas tree. And in the evening we would sit in front of the fire and dad reads a story."

A smile tucked at the girl's lips and suddenly Snape knew what Potter was about to do. But why in Merlin's name would Potter do such a thing? To comfort a Slytherin with a diversion? Potter on the other hand did not look so happy right now and Snape narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor. The boy nearly looked like crying by himself now.

"Summer." Potter finally said with a strange choking noise. "Even if summer might not be such a good choice either, but I never had a Christmas tree to look at."

That was strange and Snape inched closer a bit, leaning against the wall in his office. He now had a better view of both teens and he still wondered why in Merlin's name Potter did this – and why in Merlin's name the boy would never have had a Christmas tree to look at.

"Inside or outside?" Potter then asked. "I'm rather outside, you can run faster then."

His eyes still narrowed at the two teenagers Snape wondered for a moment why Potter would want to run if he could fly on a broom that would even be faster than running, but then Tracy gave her answer.

"Outside. I like the wind on my face and the birds singing and the sun shining. Homework or housework during the holidays? I rather would help mum cooking than doing homework."

There was a moment during which Potter laughed instead of answering the question. Yet, Snape noticed that it was a rather harsh laugh, one that actually made him shiver.

"Homework." Potter finally said. "Because I never have the chance to do them during the holidays."

"Why not?" Tracy now asked curiously, turning her head backwards to have a glance at the Gryffindor and for a moment Snape could only see the back of her head.

Potter again laughed and this time Snape recognized that it _indeed was_ a bitter laugh.

"Because I have to do the entire housework during the summer and just once I would like to rather doing homework instead of scrubbing floors and windows and cooking or doing the laundry and the dishes. Reading or writing?" Potter asked quickly enough so the girl could not ask further questions on that particular subject. "I personally like reading. I can enter a different world then, be whatever I want to be instead of being what everyone expects me to be."

"Reading. I like to read new books and get lost in them, dream of what is written there." His Slytherin said. "Spaghetti or pumpkin cake? I just love spaghetti and each holiday my mother would cook them the evening I come home from school."

"Uhm." Potter made. "I don't know what spaghetti tastes like, so I guess better being safe than sorry and I say pumpkin cake."

That was strange, Snape thought. Potter lived with a muggle family. Surely he knew what spaghetti were. But then, well, Potter had not said he didn't _know_ what they were. He rather had chosen a strange wording and said he did not know what they _tasted_ like.

"Flying or flooing?" Potter then asked. "I prefer flying. Whenever I travel per floo, then I end up with my face on the floor."

"Flying, for the same reason, I hate the floo. A brother or a sister? I would like to have a little sister. That would be nice, I guess."

Potter huffed for a moment before he answered. "Honestly, you got me now. I can't answer that one. I have a cousin and that is enough for a live time. I surely would need neither a brother nor a sister."

"Ok, but then it's my turn again to ask." The girl said and Potter nodded.

"Sure. Ask another question." The teen said and turned his head to face her. His gaze instead fell on him, Snape, at the same time as the girl asked her question "a lake or a river?" and the boy seemed to be startled out of his wits, stiffening and something akin to fear crept into those damn green eyes. "I like a lake because it would be too dangerous to swim in a river and we have a small lake near our home where I can swim in during the summer months."

Potter didn't answer but kept staring at him and Snape gestured at him to answer the question, to continue the game and at seeing that he wasn't angry Potter nearly seemed to relax. Nearly. His body language still screamed _'fear'_.

"A river." He slowly and carefully said, his eyes still on him, Snape. "Because you could drift away with the tide." Again there was a pause and still Potter watched him as if he did not dare leaving his eyes off him and again he motioned the boy to continue. What was it with Potter? He surely wasn't that intimidating that he would stun the brave Gryffindor into silence.

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"You've been in the Professor's office with Potter?" Draco asked. The boy had been sleeping earlier and right now Crabbe and Goyle filled him in of what had happened while he had been in the land of the dreaming. "Why? Has he hurt you?"

"No, he hasn't." Tracy answered and Snape could see the curious look on the blond boy's face. "He has done nothing. We only played a game of questions and answers. And it really helped. I felt better afterwards."

"Why in Merlin's name would Potter comfort one of us? He's a Gryffindor." Blaise said while shaking his head.

Theodore had a strange look on his face while he cast a glance towards the Gryffindors, again, just like he'd done the night before when he'd called Potter over, Snape noticed.

"And why did no one of _you _notice Tracy being miserable?" Draco growled at the other Slytherins. "We're Slytherins and we stuck together. Remember that one?"

"What the hell have you been doing, mate?" He heard Weasley asking at the same time, glaring at Potter, his face nearly twisted in disgust and Snape looked over at the Gryffindors. "Davis is a Slytherin!"

"Really?" Potter asked. "I wouldn't have noticed if you wouldn't have pointed it out, thanks for that bit of information."

Snape, who right now tried to listen to two conversations at the same time, nearly snorted at the sarcasm Potter displayed. The brat definitely showed some talent when it came to that, even if this was new to him. To his knowledge Potter had never before shown such traits that were more Slytherin than Gryffindor.

"Well I've been sleeping." Millicent and Daphne answered at the same time.

"You know how Greg and I are with girls." Crabbe growled.

"I do not care how you are with girls, Vince." Draco answered. "This situation is an emergency and if one of us is in need of comfort, then each of us should be ready to give it. Even the two of you."

Well, Draco definitely had a point. That it was at least what he taught his Slytherins from their very first year at Hogwarts on. Slytherins stuck together as no one would aid them outside of their own house. At least that was what had been normal up to now. As it seemed, Potter made an exception – once again.

"What's wrong with you, Harry?" Weasley shook his head at Potter, sounding angry and Snape knew that the red-head was close to snapping. "Why don't you stick to us Gryffindors but go and mix over with the _Slytherins_?"

"Because right now it's not important which house you are from." Potter answered, sounding nearly as angry as Weasley, but more in control of his anger. "I have told you already, right now they are sitting in the same boat as are we."

"Maybe, but honestly, mate." Weasley said, sounding desperate. "They are _Slytherins_!"

"Just stop it, Ron." Potter sighed, tiredly. "Davis was miserable and if I could help her, then why not doing so? You're a right idiot right now, you know? I would do the same for each of you too."

"Well, I guess, all in all, Potter had been trying to help then." Draco's thoughtful voice reached through the words of the Gryffindors. "As strange as it is."

"Well, maybe he just knows that maybe we will die down here too." Theodore answered quietly. "And maybe he doesn't want to die with a fight against us. We're all in the same position, aren't we?"

"Maybe." Draco nodded and Snape was nearly proud at the boy. "You might have a point."

"Me? A right idiot?" Weasley glared at Potter unbelievingly. "You are the one conspiring with the Slytherins! They are the enemy. Even Dean and Seamus said so."

"Hey, leave us out of this, Ron." Finnigan said.

"But you agreed earlier!" Weasley said accusingly.

"We only agreed that Harry acted strange." Thomas answered. "Not that it was wrong what he did."

"They are just students like we and they are miserable like we." Potter said and Snape couldn't help but seeing a point in what the brat said. "Just stop it, Ron. They are the same like we."

"They're not!"

"No?" Potter now asked, getting to his feet, staring at the other boy and shaking his head now too. "Do they not breathe the same as we do? Do they not eat and sleep and walk the same way we do? And do they not bleed the same red blood as we do? They were born the same way we were and they will die the same way we will. And as it seems right now, it might be in the truest sense of the word."

"Yes." Weasley admitted. "But they don't feel like we do."

"They do, Ron." Putter huffed at the idiot red-head. "They feel the same fear, they feel the same hunger and they feel the same tiredness as we do. They are not different."

"Harry's right, Ron." Granger said and Snape nearly rolled his eyes. It surely was a first time that Granger admitted someone else than herself being right.

Draco walking over to the Gryffindors caused the Potions Master to leave his desk and walk over to the ingredients cupboard to inspect what was stocked in there. He was closer to them this way and he didn't trust the situation when his Slytherins and the Gryffindors came together. Even if it didn't look like a fight Draco and Potter might pull.

"I heard what you did with Davis, Potter." Draco said upon reaching the table the Gryffindors were seated around. "And I wanted to say thank you for helping one of us."

Potter actually blinked at Draco stupidly for a few seconds before opening his mouth, closing it, and then opening it again, looking like a fish on the shore before he actually got an answer out.

"You're welcome, Malfoy." Potter said. "But right now, I guess one of us means one of us all. Does it matter right now which house we are from?"

This time it was Draco who gasped for words while blinking stupidly at Potter, and Snape shook his head. The boy normally had a better control over himself than what he displayed right now. On the other hand, well, Potter's words really would startle him too if he had not heard the Gryffindors' conversation earlier.

"Yes, I guess you're right, Potter." Draco finally said. "So – no fights, as long as we're down here?"

"A truce? Yes, of course." Potter answered, a mixture of a barely recognizable smile and an amount of mistrust on his face. "Until we're out of here."

"Yes, until then, in the long run it would be boring." Draco agreed and Snape only could be grateful for the two boys. He would not have to deal with fights right now as it seemed.

"Indeed." Potter said. "I guess that are two points to Slytherin then." The brat actually got up and took a piece of chalk, and then began to draw a list on the black board, containing a column for Slytherin and one for Gryffindor, which he wrote on the top of each. And he placed two dots into the Slytherin column.

"Had it not been you, Potter, who had implied that houses would not be important in this situation?" Snape couldn't help but asking and the brat flinched for a moment before turning towards him, looking up at him with startled and frightened eyes, as if he feared he would be angry for a Gryffindor making a truce with one of his Slytherins.

"Uhm. Yes, sir." Potter slowly answered. "Sorry for that, sir."

The Potions Master kept quiet, his eyes studying the boy intently and the Gryffindor soon began to squirm under his gaze, fidgeted with the hem of his robe. So, Potter did not worry about the truce, but about the mentioning that houses were not important right now. And he was the head of Slytherin house after all. So – as it seemed, Potter feared he might be feeling offended by that.

"There's no reason to be, Potter." He finally said, taking a rug and wiping out what the boy had written on the blackboard. He noticed the disappointed look that crossed Draco's face for a moment and the look on Potter's face that bordered on clear hurt, before he took the chalk and wrote Draco's name on the board, drawing two dots behind the name.

Underneath Draco's name he wrote Potter's, followed by two dots too. He gazed back at Potter and actually noticed a small smile on the brat's face. Growling he turned and went back to his desk.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_dreamless sleep and shocking words  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	4. dreamless sleep and shocking words

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He noticed the disappointed look that crossed Draco's face for a moment and the look on Potter's face that bordered on clear hurt, before he took the chalk and wrote Draco's name on the board, drawing two dots behind the name._

_Underneath Draco's name he wrote Potter's, followed by another two dots. He gazed back at Potter and actually noticed a small smile on the brat's pale face. Growling he turned and went back to his desk._

**Chapter four**

**Day two – Tuesday, third of September**

**Dreamless sleep and shocking words**

He had cooked another few of the cataneo roots and again he had handed them over to the students, now watching Potter and Weasley as close as he watched his Slytherins. The both of them hadn't been talking a word together since the truce Draco and Potter had made but at least Weasley seemed to accept it as did each other of the Gryffindors. And the Slytherins, he thought, feeling something like relief at the thought.

As it seemed, Potter possessed the same leadership traits as did Draco and as Potter had proven himself to be the calmest and most reasonable on the Gryffindor side, ready to help out and ready to come up with ideas, just as Draco was on the Slytherin side, he had no abjections against it. It might sound strange, Potter being reasonable and helpful in such a situation, but it seemed to be true.

He rather had expected Potter being one of the first to complain. Yet – the brat hadn't. On the contrary. He had to admit that, since this damn situation had started, Potter had accepted the situation as it was, had looked for ways to make it easier for all of them and had even placed his prejudices aside in order to keep everything calm and smooth.

And right now Potter was giving the root he was meant to eat to Miss Brown who had been complaining about those roots not doing anything against her hunger. It was the second time now Potter had given food away to others. And as it was the second day without any food for Potter in this case, he doubted that the brat simply did not like the earthy taste of the roots.

He would wait a few minutes and then he would have a talk with the brat who right now rather looked like a monster than like a boy of fourteen years. The brat had tired, red eyes from lack of sleep in a face that was thin and pale and the black hair was even more unruly as it was normally.

It was then that the brat took out his potions book and began to read again, probably trying to get his mind off the hunger he felt. Well, the boy had read in the transfiguration book all day, and hadn't he mentioned that those two books were his only ones left since he had created the mattresses with his other books?

Draco too had his potions book out, trying to get his mind off this entire mess. As had some others, including Granger who had fought over her book bag and surely had each book she had bought at Diagon Alley during the summer holidays in it, even if she would _not_ have needed them yesterday for classes.

Theodore cast nervous glances towards him and Snape sighed, left his desk and went towards the laboratory. He would have to try the floo again anyway and on his way back to the classroom he could get some dreamless sleep potion for the boy. He would need it after being awake last night.

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Harry felt ready to drop right were he sat.

He knew this feeling all too well, and he did not like it, knowing that it was weakness, knowing that maybe he had calculated wrongly and he would not have as much time as he thought. He felt rather more dizzy and ill than he actually _should_ right now. And he didn't understand it either. While with the Dursleys, he not only had not more to eat than he had right now, but he had to work himself into exhaustion each day too. He hadn't had to do this right now. So – what was wrong with him?

Well, maybe it was because he hadn't slept last night. He hadn't had much sleep during all the time with the Dursleys and he hadn't slept well during the first night back here either. So – yes, he of course was tired. More than tired. And last night he simply had not dared to sleep at all. At the Dursleys he could sleep at least two or three hours each night, even though with the knowledge that his uncle would wake him up with each nightmare he had, and even though with the knowledge that his uncle would beat the shit out of him then, but knowing that it couldn't be helped either and that it would end on September the first anyway, when he would return to Hogwarts.

And he wouldn't scream during each nightmare anyway, so there were times when he could sleep a few hours without a beating. It was different here.

Well, yes. No one would beat him here, he knew that. But alone the _thought_ of the other Gryffindors, not to mention the Slytherins and _Snape_, knowing that he had those nightmares, it made him shiver with fright. They would have their field day if they knew. None of them had been a jerk, that was true, yes. And Snape even had been – _friendly_. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't hold it against him later, when this all was over.

_If_ this was over eventually.

Well, he wasn't the only one miserable. They all were. And honestly, Ron was close to snapping into two, Hermione and Neville were silent and not quite themselves, somehow withdrawn. Lavender and Parvati were crying together every now and then and Seamus and Dean nearly had been fighting over their roots earlier. They all were close to panicking, he was sure about that.

So, he just had to be the strong one for now, until this mess was over and they were out of the dungeons. He would not going to fail his fellow Gryffindors, not even the Slytherins with whom he had made a truce, that weren't even _'Slytherins'_ anymore but just fellow students in the same misery. And surely he would not fail Snape, no matter what. Snape needed at least a few of them calm and sane and if he could do that, then he would. He simply would have to deal with everything as he always did. He just would carry through as good as possible to the end, as always. Whatever end that was that awaited them.

He simply wasn't stupid enough to think that they would get out of this so easily. No one had come during two days now and he doubted that someone would come anytime soon. He doubted that they would die down here – somehow. But they surely would not have an easy time during the next few days.

If he just would find a way to avoid sleep tonight somehow. He was so tired, he was sure he would fall asleep as soon as most of the others had settled and silence had settled in the room. And Snape had already been annoyed last night, with all his cleaning. He hadn't said anything after he had called him into his office, but he had seen it. The way Snape had watched him, with a dark face, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Well, as always. It wasn't anything new here.

Maybe if he would find something to do in Snape's office, or in the lab. Then Snape would not have to watch him and he would not annoy him. But somehow he doubted _that_. Snape would always be annoyed at him, even looking at him annoyed Snape.

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Of course the floo still had been closed, as had been the door to his office, to the corridors, and of course he again had _not_ been able to call his house elf down here. Not to mention that still Marlow wasn't back in his frame, whatever kept this wretched wizard away from them. He would kill him as soon as he came back. And he would kill him again if he came back without information.

Well, he had known it would be this way.

Going through the cupboards and shelves in his laboratory he couldn't help but thinking back at Potter who had shown this blasted small smile on his face when he had written his name on the board and given him two points. Potter definitely had been really happy about it, gaining points from him, Snape.

Well, yes – he had to admit that it was the first time he had given Potter a single point instead of taking them from the brat. Nevertheless he had thought that the Gryffindor would accept the points stoically. As stoically as he had been since they had been locked down here. But he hadn't. He had been _smiling _at him. And seeing this smile, a smile that had been so much like Lily's smile, it nearly had been his downfall. Blasted brat!

Yes, the brat had Potter's unruly mop of hair. And yes, he had Potter's face and his glasses reminded him just the more at Potter senior. And some of his rule braking was just like Potter too. The strolling through the castle at nights, sneaking down into the kitchens for food after curfew. And his thoughtless actions too.

But honestly, there was so much that reminded him at Lily right now too.

His need to help others, his ability to stay calm for the sake of others, his green eyes that expressed so much with one single gaze of them, and his smile he had shown him earlier. Potter – if he liked to admit it or not – was truly Lily's son too. Thinner, more serious and sad somehow, more scared, but definitely Lily's son, and for a moment he was glad that he had not snapped at the boy when he would have had the chance doing so, that he had caused the blasted brat to show a small smile for once.

And for a moment he wondered why in Merlin's name Potter _was_ as thin as he actually was, because it was impossible for him to have lost weight so quickly, after only a day they were locked down here. And as tired. And why he had not slept last night. Narrowing his eyes at the door to the classroom he wondered if maybe Potter had nightmares too, just as Theodore, and that he simply had not dared to fall asleep. Yes. He really would have to have another word with Potter.

And with Theodore too. He couldn't allow the boy to stay awake every other night. It simply wasn't an option. The boy needed his sleep right now to stay calm and sane, to sleep away the worst pain hunger would bring soon, to sleep away the worries and fears that soon would arise in the students. More than now at least.

Narrowing his eyes at the door again he wondered where from Potter had known that sleep would help. He had told Weasley yesterday to go to sleep, had said it would help with the hunger. Wherefrom had he known this? It wasn't normal for a student to know such a thing, now, was it? And how had the brat known that the cataneo root wasn't poisonous? Shaking his head he simply took another vial of dreamless sleep. He would see if Potter would sleep tonight.

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"Theodore?" Snape quietly asked, lowering himself down so he had one knee on the floor beside the boy's mattress. There was no need for all the others to know that he gave the boy a dreamless sleep potion, after all. Theodore was too uncomfortable about it already as it was without every one of the others knowing.

"Yes, sir?" The boy asked, his voice as quiet as his had been and looking over at the other side of the boy he noticed Draco being asleep already. Somehow he wondered how that boy managed to lay down and sleep, never mind what situation he was in, never mind how long he had been awake and never mind how long he had slept earlier. He himself lay awake for hours sometimes.

A slight smile tuck at the corners of his lips while watching his godson for a moment.

"It is not night yet, Theodore, but definitely late enough for you to try and sleep as you have not had your eyes closed last night." He said, simply reaching the vial with the dreamless sleep potion towards the boy who took it with relief showing on his face.

"Thank you, sir." The boy murmured.

"You're welcome, Theodore." Snape silently answered. "Take it as soon as you are ready for bed. You can give the vial back tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir." The boy answered and the Potions Master was about to get up just when his snake gazed back at him. "Sir?"

"Yes, Theodore?" Snape asked, lowering his head to one side.

"Do you think that we will be out of here soon? I mean, you said so, but do you truly believe it?" The boy asked and Snape couldn't help but giving away a sigh. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch.

"I cannot be sure, Theodore." He then slowly answered, sensing the question that truly was on the boy's mind but which he had not dared to ask. "And I truly do not know the answer to your question. But yes, I do believe that we will be out of here soon enough to prevent death. None of you will die down here. I do believe that, and I want _you_ to believe that too. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." The boy answered, yet – by the look on the boy's face and the way he lowered his eyes he knew that the boy didn't believe him.

Sighing again he released the teenager's shoulder and grabbed his chin, forcing the boy to look at him.

"I _really_ do want you to believe that, Theodore, as that is what will happen." He sternly said. "We will be out of here alive, all of us. It might take the headmaster a bit longer as we originally thought and hoped, but he will manage to find a way. He would not be Albus Dumbledore if he would not find one. And meanwhile we will search for a way too. Do you understand?"

The "yes, sir" he gained this time was much more confident than the one before had been and he nodded satisfied.

"I do have a few more vials of dreamless sleep down here and I do have enough ingredients for brewing another batch if necessary, even if I doubt it. You do not have to fear about that however. But nevertheless I want you to think of a way for sleeping without the potion as I do not like you being awake every second night. You should sleep as much as possible as do your classmates. It is important as it will keep your strength together. Not to mention that sleep deprivation only will leave you with depression, fear and exhaustion. Nothing that will help us right now."

"But sir …" The boy began and Snape quickly held up his hand to stop him, giving him a stern gaze.

"I did not imply that you have to do so right now. I merely suggested that you might think about a solution, nothing more and nothing else. It is worth a thought at least. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, sir." The boy said, this time misery clearly audible in his voice.

"Good." Snape nodded. "How is your shoulder doing?" He then asked.

"My shoulder is fine, sir, thank you." Theodore answered and this time he even smiled a bit.

"Good." Snape again said. "See that you tell me if it changes. How is your back doing?"

"That one is fine too, sir." The boy answered and again Snape nodded.

"Good, then I suggest you get ready for bed, take the potion and then try to sleep as long as possible."

"Yes, sir." The boy answered and got up to visit the bathroom that was attended to the laboratory and to get ready for bed, leaving Snape watching him with a grim expression on his face.

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"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing, Potter?" The low feral growl in Snape's dark voice caused Harry to flinch and turn rather quickly on the table he was standing atop, turning away from the shelf he was about to clean out, nearly losing his footing in the process and he could feel fear settling in his stomach. Ok, then it had not been such a good idea to clean out the Professor's office, maybe the bathroom or the kitchen would have been a better idea. He tried his best to hide the fear that crept up into his chest from the older wizard in the room but he knew that he failed the moment his eyes fell on the teacher that stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, his dark eyes piercing him and his face a mask of indifference he always wore. Nevertheless he could detect the annoyance in the pale face of the man.

"Stop this annoying cleaning, Potter and go to sleep." Snape said in the same low growl.

"Uhm …" Was all he could get out for the moment, even if he knew that the Professor hated such incoherent answers and he took a deep breath to get his nerves back under control. Damn, he had been through worse at the Dursleys and his nerves shouldn't betray him now the way they did.

Uncle Vernon would already have beaten him to death because he would have found a reason to blame him for the situation. Snape wouldn't do so. He neither blamed him, nor would he beat him.

And at the Dursleys he wouldn't have something to eat either, with the exception that he would have to watch _them _eating whereas here they all were in the same situation. Neither would have to watch the others eating while being hungry. There wasn't any unfair situation except of the fact that the situation _itself_ was unfair to them all in the first place. But that was something they _all_ would have to deal with. So – no, he had no reason to lose his nerves.

_'Maybe the difference lies in the fact that you are trying to get the man's approval.'_ A small voice in the back of his mind answered and startled he hitched a breath, wondering if that really was true and if so, then why.

"Eloquent as always, I see." Snape drawled, his dark eyes still piercing him, yet – they were not as angry as they normally were when they fell on him. And the Professor's voice too did not sound as angry as it normally sounded when addressing him. Strange, he couldn't help thinking for a moment.

"Well, sir." He answered, still not really able to suppress his fear. Maybe he was just too tired, maybe he was just too hungry, or maybe the situation reminded him just too much at Private Drive. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, so I thought I could get some work done instead. I mean … well …"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he ran his hand over his face tiredly.

He doubted that Potter really wouldn't be able to sleep, he just did not _want _to and he had a good idea as to why. He had watched the brat last night and from what he had observed – well, the boy was scared, most likely because of the situation, as they all were. And nevertheless, he knew there was more.

The boy was more jumpy than ever before, he threw fearful glances towards him, Snape, every now and then. He was more silent than he was normally and his bend shoulders and stance indicated not only fear but - pain as well. The teen's green eyes were not Lily's bright green but a dark green and somehow he doubted that this was the natural color of the boy's eyes. He had seen them brighter last year, and the year before and in Potter's first year.

'_But are they not the color they are at the beginning of each year?'_ A small voice asked in the back of his mind and he narrowed his eyes. Yes, they were, he couldn't help answering this small voice.

All in all, Potter radiated fear, even if he tried to hide it.

Again he remembered the smile the brat had shown him earlier, when he had written his name on the board and when he had given him two points. It had been a smile, even if a hesitant one, a small one, one that clearly showed the brat had not only been surprised but grateful as well.

Yes, somehow that wasn't the Potter he knew.

All he had seen since Monday, since they were locked down here, indicated that there was something wrong with the boy and the more time passed the more it became clear. His annoying need to do work instead of sleeping, his damn need to comfort others without a single thought of self-preservation and the way he had told Weasley that they all were in the same boat, the way he had been ready to make a truce with Draco, something he had not expected from Potter. Again he was reminded at Potter telling Weasley to sleep and Potter knowing that the cataneo root was not poisonous.

Well, those were the biggest signs, but there were smaller signs as well and he was someone who knew how to read people's body language and to hear between the words they said. And he knew how to interpret the subtle layers of personality that covered the people too. It was a skill that simply was vital for his survival as a spy and now that the boy had his attention, he easily noticed more than he had wanted to notice.

Sighing he waved Potter over and pointed at the chair that stood in front of his desk while he himself sat onto the edge of the wooden table.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter." He said, noticing the startled gaze from the boy when he did not call him _'Potter'_ but '_Mr._ Potter'. Well, he simply couldn't deny that Potter acted in this situation like he expected his Slytherins to act and maybe he could handle Potter like he would handle one of his snakes, as strange as this thought might be right now. Maybe if he talked to him like he talked to his snakes, maybe he then would get what he wanted from the boy.

Once more he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Potter sat down, hesitantly and unsurely.

"I have watched you since we are in this situation, Mr. Potter." He began, trying to keep his voice low and neutral. "And you have proven yourself able to act sanely and wisely, even friendly towards the Slytherins, providing comfort to others, and I am pleased with what I have seen from you. You behaved like I expect one of my Slytherins to behave right now."

He noticed Potter's eyes growing large with surprise before the boy blushed and then looked aside and he lifted an eyebrow, realizing that the brat wasn't used to praise from him. Well, that had to be expected as he never before had given praise to Potter and yet he would say it again as it was the truth.

"And nevertheless, Mr. Potter, we are sitting in here for the second time within two nights, discussing your sleeping patterns." He softly continued. "So, care to explain as to _why _you avoid sleep by cleaning out the classroom or my office, despite the fact that you look as if being ready to drop at any moment?"

There were a few moments during which Potter said nothing, just blinked at the floor, startled, hesitantly, unsurely and again he clearly could see the word _'fear'_ written over the brat's forehead in red letters. Now however there was something else mixed to it and the only name he could add to it right now was frustration.

"Well, sir." Potter finally began, his voice as hesitant as his appearance was. "I'm just too worried over the situation. I wouldn't be able to sleep right now."

"I thought we were over this need to hide some things, Mr. Potter." Snape said. He wasn't entirely sure, but he had a good guess at what impact his next words would have on the boy, at least would he had been one of his Slytherins. "And to be honest, then I have to admit that I am disappointed. I thought that you had seen you could trust me by now."

Well, by judging the teen's startled and considerably paling face correctly, he had been right. The boy right now felt frustrated by himself and most probably he silently cursed himself. And the murmured "I'm sorry, sir" he gave away, was prove enough that he was right again. Damn, the brat seemed to be close to tears right now and he narrowed his eyes at him. Was his, Snape's, opinion really _that_ important to Potter? Since when? What had happened to the hate the boy always had felt towards him?

Sighing again and momentarily running his hand over his face Snape shook his head in confusion.

"Would you like to try it again, Mr. Potter, explaining why you so desperately avoid sleep?" He then asked.

Again there were a few moments of silence during which Potter hung his head before he bent lower and ran his arms around his midsection in a gesture of self-protection before he finally answered, in such a small voice that he had to listen closely to understand the words at all.

"Because I have nightmares. Sometimes."

"And you do not wish the Slytherins to notice it." He nodded. He had thought as much.

"_No one_ knows about them." Potter murmured and Snape couldn't resist lifting his eyebrow at the boy.

"Not even your fellow Gryffindors?" He asked and the only answer he got this time was a slight shaking of Potter's head. "How have you been able to keep this hidden from your dorm mates?"

"I have used a silencing spell." Potter murmured, his face blushing furiously.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" Snape's growl caused him to look up and immediately Harry realized that he had made a mistake as he got a good look at his teacher's face. Snape was pale but his dark eyes were narrowed and a vein was throbbing on the man's neck and Harry feared, like he often did with uncle Vernon when the man's face went purple, that Snape was going to explode and have a heart attack.

He considered saying that it wasn't important and that Snape shouldn't mind him but then the older wizard ran a weary hand over his face and sighed before the black eyes settled on his face again and the older wizard sighed once more and folded his arms in front of his chest, looking much too intimidating for Harry's comfort and he remained silent.

He was angry beyond reason and he knew he had to calm down if he didn't want Potter being startled out of his wits. The teen was already jumpy enough as it was. But honestly, why in Merlin's name couldn't Minerva keep her lions from using those spells while being with their own? Sometimes this woman drove him to madness and honestly, he shouldn't wonder why the Gryffindors were the way they were as they were left to themselves by their head of house.

Of course he knew that Minerva cared about her lions, but honestly, sometimes he doubted her sanity.

"Mr. Potter." Snape said with a sigh and the man's tone was calm and strangely gentle. "Kindly inform me as to how often you use those spells and as to how long you suffer from nightmares in the first place!"

"I always use them in the dorm before I go to bed, sir." Potter murmured, addressing rather the floor beneath his feet than him. "I don't want to wake the others …"

"Did you ever consider the fact, Mr. Potter, that nobody can wake you from a nightmare if you use a silencing spell as no one can hear you then?"

Potter's head snapped up at him, confusion and uncertainty written all over his face and the green eyes blinking in near shock at him.

"But … but why … why would anyone want this?" Potter had the nerve to ask and again Snape had to grit his teeth for a moment to stop himself from snapping at the foolish boy. Had the damn brat never been woken by his relatives when he had a nightmare at home that he was so startled at his question?

"Would you do me the favour, Mr. Potter, and tell me what your relatives did when you had a nightmare at home?" He asked out of curiosity.

"They did nothing!" Potter answered and Snape couldn't help but narrowing his eyes at the boy.

The answer had been a bit too quick for his liking and the boy sounded too much as if he tried to defend them for his liking either. Something in the boy's words and tone worried him and for a moment he was tempted to ask how much he had been sleeping and more importantly how much he had been eating at home during his summer holidays. But knowing that he wouldn't get any straight answer out of the boy right now and knowing that he wouldn't do any good to either of them, he swallowed the question and simply nodded.

"Be it as it may." He finally said. "For now I will provide you with a dreamless sleep potion, Mr. Potter. You can take it only every second night however, as it would be addictive if you took it each night. For those nights during which you cannot take the dreamless sleep potion however, we will find another solution. And I do not wish you using such spells if you are back in your tower either, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Potter murmured miserably and with another sigh he reached into the pocket of his robes and took the second vial he had taken from his stocks earlier. He reached the vial towards the boy who cast an unsure gaze at him and he actually had to give him an encouraging nod, as if to ensure the brat that he was allowed to take it, before he finally took it with trembling fingers, uncorked the vial and downed its contents quickly.

"Thank you, sir." Seemed to be all the boy was able to get out at the moment and he nodded.

"Go to bed, Mr. Potter and sleep." He simply said and the boy turned and was about to leave when a thought struck him.

"And, Mr. Potter." He called the boy back and again Potter turned, this time towards him, casting an unsure gaze at him. "It has been _you_, Mr. Potter, who said that houses are unimportant at the moment. In some way indicating that Slytherin and Gryffindor do not exist down here right now. And if there are no two different houses, then I am not head of Slytherin right now, but simply your teacher and my responsibility belongs to _each_ of you in the same way. So I expect you to address me if you have any troubles or problems. Is that clear, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir." Potter answered after a few seconds during which he looked at him, blinking, shocked again, as if he had grown suddenly two added heads like this blasted three-headed dog Hagrid once had brought to school, in Potter's first year.

"Good, Mr. Potter." He growled. "See that you remember that. Good night."

"Good night, Professor." Potter answered, again after a few seconds during which he hesitated, before he finally turned and left the office, silently closing the door behind him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When he left his office a few minutes later and entered the classroom, he noticed that most of the students were sleeping by now.

Granger was laying on her mattress, reading, as was Longbottom and Draco too was in a horizontal position, awake but his mind elsewhere. Theodore was one of those fast asleep and he went over to the boy. He knelt down beside him, his head lowered to one side and he watched the boy's pale but restful face for a short moment, running his hand through the short brown hair for a moment before he turned towards Draco who watched him sleepily.

"Sleep, Draco." He said in a tired voice. "That's the best you can do right now. Tomorrow will be a new day and we will see what it might bring."

He stood when the blond boy nodded and after a second of hesitance he went towards the Gryffindor side and knelt beside Potter's mattress, Draco's eyes following him as well as Granger's and Longbottom's. He extended his hand, keeping it for a moment mid-air, before he carded his fingers through the unruly mop of black hair, just as he had done with Theodore before, causing the boy to sleepily open his eyes at him.

"Sleep child." He quietly said, glancing down into the green eyes that watched him sleepily. "I'm tired by myself and I don't have the nerve to deal with you right now. We will talk tomorrow."

He turned and gazed towards Granger and Longbottom when Potter closed his eyes obediently, or simply because he was too tired to keep them open any longer.

"You two as well." He said. "Sleep. It's the best you can do right now."

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_trust and disappointment  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	5. trust and disappointment

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He turned and gazed towards Granger and Longbottom when Potter closed his eyes obediently, or simply because he was too tired to keep them open any longer. _

_"You two as well." He said. "Sleep. It's the best you can do right now."_

**Chapter five**

**Day three – Wednesday, fourth of September**

**Trust and disappointment**

He entered his classroom after – yet again to no avail – trying the floo, the doors, after trying to summon a house elf and finally after heating water to cook another round of the cataneo roots. They would be able to eat them today and maybe tomorrow morning before there were none left and mentally he already had thought of other things safe to eat down here.

Well, there were several plants and other roots he could _'brew'_ a – kind of _'soup'_ from for a day or two more and there were several herbs he could use in a tea and add honey into, which he had down here as well. Enough at least so they would be able to cover tea for four or five days more. But after that it would get difficult. After that he actually had to act really carefully.

He could use crushed sunjata roots to several ingredients that were poisonous to extract the poison. Cooked to a kind of soup they would get through two or three more days. It wouldn't be much, but it would be _something_. All in all, it would keep them alive for at least a week. He wasn't sure what to do if they were still locked down here after that.

He would give them nutrition potions of course, and he had enough ingredients to brew a few more batches so it would last another week for seventeen students – maybe. But nutrition potions wouldn't keep them alive forever and by the time he would have to use this one, they already would be weak. Nothing he looked forwards to.

The cataneo roots would take an hour and so he quickly and quietly entered the classroom, knowing that the students all were close to lose their nerves meanwhile.

"What?" Weasley asked the moment he entered the classroom, horror on his face. "Are you crazy, mate?"

"Well, you either can sit here and think about being hungry, or you can do something to get your mind off it." Potter said. "And the best thing to do is to learn."

"But … think about it. Potions?"

"We're in the potions classroom, aren't we? It doesn't matter what we do as long as we do _something_." Potter answered the red-head the moment Snape reached his desk and he had to admit that the brat was right. He just wondered that Potter of all people suggested to learn and – well, potions, of all subjects. "And besides, it might work. We just have to ask."

"Well, _you_ may ask then." Weasley sounded angry now, turning away and throwing himself onto his mattress in a fit of anger and for a moment he was close to snapping at the youngest Weasley. He was fourteen and not four anymore. But then he sighed. He would have to deal with such reactions more often during the next days and he better got used to it. They all were fourteen, yes, but they all were in a situation that was frightening and anything else than easy for them.

They were still children and thus he should allow them to act like children.

Potter, slowly approaching his desk, an unsure gaze on his face, got him out of his musings and he looked up, annoyed at the Gryffindor and his damn Gryffindor-courage. He watched Potter, approaching him slowly, and for a moment he again had the impression that the boy was scared of him, whatever reason for.

He laid the parchments where he had begun to take notes about the past two days and his stocks of potions ingredients they would be able to use down onto the wooden surface of the table and looked over his desk at the brat.

"Uhm, sorry, Professor." Potter began and now he couldn't help but narrowing his eyes for a moment at the brat.

"Yes?" He then asked, his eyebrow lifted but his face otherwise as indifferent as always.

"Well, I just wanted to ask … well …" Lowering his eyes towards the floor Potter was about to turn and leave.

"Continue, Potter." He growled, trying to keep most of his irritation out of his voice.

"I just … I wanted to ask if maybe we could brew a potion." Potter even took a step back from his desk now and he narrowed his eyes at the brat again. No, that _definitely_ was not the Potter he knew.

"Which one did you have in mind, Potter?" He asked, curious if Potter had given it a deeper thought or if the brat was just trying to get his mind off the situation they were in.

"A nutrition potion maybe, Professor." He said and he actually had to lift his eyebrow. He had been sure that – if the boy would suggest one – then he would suggest dreamless sleep. "That would be the most logical I can think of right now … but maybe … what I thought of … I mean … well …"

"Potter!" Snape snapped. There simply was nothing worse than a student that stuttered at him. He preferred complete sentences in an eloquent and fluid language. "Say what you want to say, Mr. Potter." He added in a more calm voice, reminding himself that Potter was one of those who didn't cause trouble but actually wanted to help.

"Sorry, sir." The brat apologized and Snape couldn't help lifting his eyebrow at him. "I just thought, well, the bezoar would safe one from most poisons. You said so in my first year. So, I just wondered if there would be a possibility to maybe crush the bezoar. And use it in a potion or something like that. I mean, that would allow us to use even ingredients that would be poisonous otherwise."

"I am glad that something got stuck in that brain of yours for longer than a few minutes, Mr. Potter, and I appreciate your attempt to be of help what will get you two more points." He said, hoping that he had chosen his words not too harshly. He really appreciated Potter's wish to be helpful. "But regrettably it wouldn't work. First, you cannot crush the bezoar and second it would be deadly poisonous by itself if you cooked the stone. I wonder however how you come by the information about nutrition potions as those are covered in only NEWT classes, easy to brew, yes, but being dangerous if brewed incorrectly."

"Well, it was mentioned in last year's potions book." Potter answered, blushing furiously what gave his otherwise pale face a deeper red than it originally would have looked like and Snape couldn't help but lowering his head to one side, startled at the fact that the brat actually had looked into his book outside of classes. "Well, in the chapter where healing potions were covered."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. Or had there been a reason as to why he had looked through those chapters during his holidays? Because even though it was in the book, he never covered chapter twenty-seven. He covered those potions with his sixth years only as they were dangerous to brew.

He wanted to have a word with Potter anyway, and he wanted this word with him before their – well – _'breakfast'_ … so, it might be just now.

"If you would follow me into my office for a moment, Mr. Potter." He finally said, getting to his feet. "I wanted to have a word with you anyway."

He went over to his office, adding two points to Potter's name on the board on his way, and closed the door as soon as the boy had stepped in after him.

"Sit down." He said, pointing at a chair in front of the desk, the one Potter had sat in the night before, while he rounded his desk and took a seat too.

"Sir?" Potter asked and he could not only _see_ the nervousness the boy felt, but he could _hear_ it too. He sighed, not quite knowing how to begin.

"Well, Mr. Potter." He finally began, once again pinching the bridge of his nose. "I guess I really could allow you to brew the nutrient potion. I would have brewed it anyway, but I can allow _you_ doing so as I know you want to get your classmates busy so they might not think too much over the situation."

"But those potions won't keep us alive forever." Potter said and it was more a whisper than anything else.

"No, they won't, Mr. Potter, but by tomorrow or the day after tomorrow at the latest, someone will have found a way to get past those wards." Hopefully. He added in his mind, sighing, hoping that he did the right thing in telling things that might be a lie. "Whatever wards that might be." He added, shaking his head. He still had no answer to this.

"Maybe." Potter quietly answered, so quietly, that he nearly missed it, before he looked up and addressed him. "But I guess you know as well as I do that maybe it might take them a few more days or maybe even weeks, Professor." His voice was still low and calm and for a moment Snape wondered how the boy could be so calm when most of the other students were either sobbing or beginning to fight.

"Sorry, sir." Potter quickly added, looking aside.

"That might be, Mr. Potter." Snape finally admitted, piercing the teenager with his dark eyes. "And there is no need to apologize for stating your opinion. Here we however reach the subject I wanted to address you with anyway." His eyes never leaving the teenager in front of him, he leaned forwards. "I have noticed that you do not eat the roots I hand out, Mr. Potter. But as it has been you, who pointed out that it might be a few more days and even weeks, you should know that it is important that everyone, and that includes you too, eats the little that is here."

Sighing in frustration Potter looked at the ground beneath his feet.

"Yes, sir." He murmured, not looking at him and Snape immediately knew that it was an only half hearted answer spoken out of rather guilt than anything else.

"So, care to explain as to why you are giving your food away, Mr. Potter?" He asked out of curiosity and maybe to get the teenager to see how important it was.

"Well …" The boy murmured. "They're hungry."

"Oh." Snape couldn't help making. "And you are not?"

"Uhm …" Potter made and this time Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen that definitely didn't want to admit to him that he too was hungry, and he wondered why.

"Well?"

"Well … yes." Potter then murmured before he looked up, nearly defiantly and he again narrowed his eyes at the brat. "But that is different."

"And that might be - why?" He asked, not knowing what the teen was playing at, what he meant, why it would be different.

"I'm used to!" Potter answered angrily, not noticing him furrowing his brows at him. "They're not! They don't know how to handle it! They … they …"

"Please inform me, Mr. Potter, what exactly do you mean with 'they don't know how to handle it'." He silently asked. "And why it is that you would be used to being hungry."

There was a pause during which Potter watched him with startled eyes for a moment and Snape almost could see the wheels in his brain turning, working, until the brat recognized what he had said and he looked aside.

"Well, you don't eat anything either! Sir." The boy then tried to get the subject off himself. Of course - they all did.

"I am not under consideration, Mr. Potter." He growled darkly. "But _you _are."

"But that's not fair!" Potter still tried to get the subject off himself.

"I never said it was." Snape leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. Something was going wrong right now, he knew it. And he had a bad feeling that he would not like it. "But as I am the adult here, your teacher, and the one in responsibility, it will go the way I say. Thus I am not under consideration, Mr. Potter, but you are. And now try again, Mr. Potter. Or let me rephrase my question into a more direct one. When had been the last time you actually did eat anything?"

"At the welcoming feast! Sir." Potter quickly answered, a bit too quickly for his liking as if he had feared this question might come. And a bit too defiantly too. Again. "As had everyone else!" Potter added.

"And before that? Mr. Potter?" He asked, watching the teenager close.

"The night before." Potter answered. "I didn't have time for breakfast on September the first."

"Forgive me, Potter, but you do look as if you hadn't eaten anything for days before coming back to school, not only missing - _breakfast _- and I begin to wonder why that might be."

"But I did!" Potter said, his tone still angry and defiant. "The night before I got on the train."

"You already said so, Mr. Potter." Snape calmly said, narrowing his eyes. "And might I ask when you have eaten before _that?_"

"Uhm …" Potter made, averting his eyes now, all defiance gone.

"Well?" Snape asked, still calmly, even though he didn't _feel_ calm at all. If Potter tried to avoid answering this question, then it wasn't a good sign. And even if the brat just didn't remember, then this already was bad enough. Potter wasn't half as stupid as he always had given him credit for and therefore, if he wasn't able to remember a meal before the last one he had mentioned, then it must have been a long time ago.

"Dunno." Potter finally mumbled. "Can't remember, sir."

"You cannot remember what you had for lunch the day before you got back to Hogwarts?" Snape finally asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Uhm …" Potter made again, yet, he wasn't really annoyed at the teen's lack of articulation abilities. He had a much more bothersome problem at his hands right now. "I didn't have lunch this day."

"You didn't have lunch on that day." Snape repeated, huffing. "And breakfast?"

Potter only shook his head.

Gritting his teeth Snape stood up and rounded his desk, leaning against the wooden table and folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Then tell me, Mr. Potter, and do try to remember, when _had been_ the last time you have eaten?" He asked quietly, with a calmness he didn't feel and again there was a long pause during which Potter didn't look at him, but at the floor.

He was just about to ask again when the teenager suddenly draw his arms around his midsection and bent forwards.

"I don't know, sir." Potter finally whispered and he had to listen close now. "It's been a while."

"What is a while in your opinion, Mr. Potter?" He asked, forcing himself to stay calm, his mind racing a mile a minute, wondering why Potter hadn't eaten 'for a while', not daring to think the worst yet.

"A week or so, I guess." Potter again murmured.

"And might I dare asking how long you have not eaten before _that_?"

"I don't know, sir." Came Potter's whisper.

Closing his eyes Snape again gritted his teeth.

"And what _had_ it been you have eaten back then?" He asked, his face becoming darker with each question, yet – Potter only shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at him. Turning back towards the desk and leaning his hands onto the wooden surface for a moment to hide his own frustration he decided to try another approach and to play out the card in his sleeve, just like the night before. He had gotten Potter back then and he would get him now too. He wouldn't be Snape if he wouldn't find a way.

Well, as strange as it sounded to him, but Potter seemed to search for his approval - the same thing his Slytherins searched. So - if his Slytherins didn't want to disappoint him, then maybe Potter didn't want to disappoint him too. Again, as strange as it might sound to him and for a moment he wondered if it always had been this way and he only had not seen it.

"I already told you yesterday, that I really appreciate your calmness in this situation, your goodwill and your ability to look for solutions that might help, to look out to your classmates, trying to comfort them." He said, turning back and gazing at the teenager who already squirmed on the chair, apparently knowing what would come next.

"And I do appreciate the fact that you are ready to lay prejudices aside and handle the Slytherins as you would handle your Gryffindor classmates. But yet again, you do not trust me, Mr. Potter." He said. "Yet again, you try to hide the truth from me. Yet again you do not accept my hand I reach towards you. What causes me to feel disappointed. I thought you would be ready to get over your prejudices towards me too by now, Mr. Potter, and to be honest, I thought I could rely on you, on your trust and on your honesty."

The pale face he had in front of him now, looking at him with shock in much too large green eyes, told him enough, he didn't need the small whispered "I'm sorry, sir" Potter gave away and he had to grit his teeth yet again to not back away and give in to the teen he had in front of him.

"So, do you want to try again, Mr. Potter?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted at him in his typical Snape-manner, his hands held behind his back and his stance rather cold now.

"I … I just don't get too much to eat at the Dursleys, sir." Potter finally murmured towards the floor. "So I had to sneak a slice of bread out of the kitchen every now and then. It just won't work every day."

Seething in anger Snape came closer, not really caring if he scared Potter right now. He was barely able to suppress the fury he felt.

"So, care to tell me, Mr. Potter, as to _how often_ you are able to – **'**_sneak out a slice of bread'?_" He asked.

"Well … twice a week or so. Sometimes. But …"

Suddenly Snape wasn't able to control his rage any longer and he grabbed Potter at the scruff of his neck, lifting him from the chair he was sitting at, ignoring the startled yelp and the flinch when the boy tried to get away from him. His fingers lost the grip on Potter's shirt with the boy's backwards movement and remained splayed in midair for a moment while the teenager scrambled backwards, fearfully, his green eyes wide with alarm.

"Potter!" He barked, reaching forwards and grabbing the teen firmly by the shoulder. "I am not angry at _you_!" He growled in a low voice, as if trying this way to control his rage, fixing the smaller form that still tried to huddle away from him. "But kindly inform me as to how long this has been going on at your relatives' house?"

"Dunno." Potter murmured, watching him warily, trying to shrug his shoulders.

"How long, Mr. Potter?" Snape slowly and in a threateningly silent voice asked again.

"It's been always like that." Potter answered and Snape finally released the boy, shoving him back into the chair while he himself sat at the edge of his desk to prevent himself from pacing his office angrily.

"Potter." He began, not sure what to do next and he ran his hand over his face in frustration.

As it seemed Potter had not eaten a real meal since weeks, had eaten none to nothing in weeks actually, was already too thin. He had noticed it how light he was when he had lifted him from the chair and he had noticed how bony his shoulder was when he had grabbed him. Once more he closed his eyes for a moment, frustration running through him.

As it seemed, Potter would be the first of them to die. Followed closely by Theodore.

"Harry." He tried again, going from the boy's sure name to his given name to make sure that he had the boy's attention. It really wasn't important how he addressed them all down here. "Is there anything else I should know, Harry?" He finally asked and he only could huff at the quick headshake the boy gave him.

He only could sigh once more in frustration.

"I want you to eat each – _'meal'_ … we can get down here." He finally said, coming back to his normal self. At least close to it. "No exceptions. You do already look close to starving. It is important that everyone, and that includes _you_, Mr. Potter, keeps up as much strength as possible. None of you can afford missing anything to eat. And you the least."

"If you do the same, sir." Potter had the nerve to answer and for a moment his anger flared anew, this time only at the teenager in front of him and he nearly missed the boy's next words. "You said you are responsible for us. So you have to be strong as well. If you're the first to die, then who will keep the others alive? They won't be able to survive alone."

"As it is, Mr. Potter …" For a moment he was about to say that Potter would be the first one to die and not him, but then he gritted his teeth. He wouldn't do them any good if he told Potter this bit of information. It wouldn't do them any good if he startled Potter more than he already was. And besides, the brat was right.

Yet – he didn't miss Potter's choice of words – _the others_, and _they_. The boy already knew.

"Well." He said. "Then be it, Mr. Potter. But never ever again - _absolutely - never - again_ - question my actions, did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Potter answered, again to the floor. "Sorry, sir."

Snape gave a curt nod before he placed a hand on Potter's shoulder, fixing the teenager with his dark gaze.

"I meant what I said earlier, Mr. Potter." He growled darkly, not used to comfort a Gryffindor. "I _am _proud of your actions down here since Monday morning. What makes the disappointment in your mistrust towards me just the worse." Well, he had not intended to say that, but he had to admit, it was the truth. "You might brew the nutrition potion after our – '_breakfast'_." He added to get his normal and cold demeanour back in place.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Snape waited until Potter had left his office before he allowed himself to place his forehead on his hand, a silent "Merlin" escaping him and he remembered the game between Tracy and Potter. He should have known back then.

_"I don't know what spaghetti tastes like, so I guess better being safe than sorry and I say pumpkin cake."_

_"I personally prefer the night. Because during the night everyone is sleeping and then I can have a bit of freedom for myself."_

_"I have a cousin and that is enough for a live time. I surely would need neither a brother nor a sister."_

_"Summer. __Even if summer might not be such a good choice as well, but I never had a Christmas tree to look at_._" _

_"Because I have to do the entire housework during the summer and just once I would like to rather do homework __instead of scrubbing floors and windows and cooking or doing the laundry and the dishes__."_

So – Potter was not only neglected by them, but they kept him as a house elf too. He really didn't have to wonder anymore why the brat never had his summer assignments. Did Albus know about this? Or Minerva? With a huff he shook his head. They surely didn't know. Potter would be the first one who by free will would admit that he was neglected.

_"Go and get some sleep, Ron. It helps."_

_"Cataneo roots are not poisonous."_

_"Because I have nightmares. Sometimes. I have used a silencing spell."_

_"I just don't get too much to eat at the Dursleys, sir. So I had to sneak a slice of bread out of the kitchen every now and then. It just won't work every day. Twice a week or so. Sometimes."_

And now that he remembered and tried to catch the unspoken words, those between the words Potter actually had spoken, he suddenly knew that there was more behind the spoken words than simple neglect. As if that were any news. A child that was neglected, most probably was abused too. But honestly, Potter had a slice of bread twice a week? Sometimes? That was more than just simple neglect. That was …

_"You could be locked in a cupboard, couldn't you?"_

_"They did nothing!"_

_"I don't know, sir. It's been a while. A week or so, I guess." _

_"But … but why … why would anyone want this?"_

_"It's been always like that."_

_"I'm used to! They're not! They don't know how to handle it!"_

Blinking in confusion he remembered a letter on Minerva's desk, during summer three years ago, when he had visited her in her office for tea. He had huffed at the letter back then after reading the name. But now, considering Potter's neglect at the hands of his relatives, and considering the boy's comments, the address he had read on the letter made much more sense suddenly.

'_Mr. H. Potter_

_The cupboard under the stairs_

_# 4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey'_

Why had he never seen it before?

He had acknowledged that the boy was ridiculous thin after holidays and this year he even had considered mentioning it to Minerva. And he also had acknowledged that Potter always was more jumpy after the holidays. That the word 'fear' somehow seemed to be written in red letters across his forehead.

And then the way his hands had trembled when he had taken the dreamless sleep potion last night. The way he had hugged himself, as if never being comforted by someone else than himself, as if to keep himself from falling apart. The way the brat had smiled at him when he had given him those blasted points. Points! Simple points! And the way the brat had been close to tears afterwards, after telling him that he had been disappointed in him for not trusting him.

Potter never had been able to rely on an adult who cared. And now that he had shown him the slightest act of caring, the teen nearly had cried when he had told him that he was disappointed in him. Closing his eyes he wondered where in Merlin's name that would lead to. And running his hand over his face he wondered how long in Merlin's name Potter would survive. He had to know more about Potter's actual condition if he …

Well, no. he did not have to know. He already _did_ know. And he knew that there was no way that the brat would survive too long. The boy had nothing on his bones to begin with.

Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise on the Slytherin side, as well as Weasley, Longbottom, Finnigan and Thomas on the Gryffindor side, they would have a hard time, but they had chances to survive at least three or four weeks. Even Bulstrode, Pansy and Daphne as well as Brown and Granger would manage, somehow.

But Draco had not many reserves, and neither had Patil. And Theodore, Tracy and Potter, they would be the first ones to die, with Potter in the clear lead.

After slamming his fist onto the surface of his desk, just to get some of his strain off, he went into the laboratory to get the roots. He would have to use all his brains the next few days. If he wouldn't be able to get them enough to eat so each of them had a chance, then he simply would have to get them out of the dungeons.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

This day wasn't destined however to get any better, as he soon learned.

In the aftermath, he thought that he should have known better, he knew Crabbe and Goyle after all, and even if Weasley wasn't in his house, he knew the youngest red-head. And all three of them were the same. They were not only gruffly if they were hungry, they even could get dangerous then.

At least Weasley, as he learned that day.

During the day the Slytherins and the Gryffindors had come closer to the small fire that was burning in the fireplace. He knew they were cold, but he didn't dare to light the fire more than he did right now, knowing that they wouldn't have enough wood forever and he couldn't use magic to keep it going or to cast a warming spell. He already had tried those options throughout the past days since they were here in this damn situation.

And thus they all had begun to huddle closer together, as close as possible to the fireplace. And thus it had been easy for Potter to hear Crabbe's comment about being hungry. Not his first one. But – much to his annoyance – Crabbe actually had asked Potter if he wasn't hungry as he only nibbled at his root, slowly, and if he could have it then and Potter – again much to his annoyance – had given the reminder of it to Crabbe who had taken it gladly and for a moment he couldn't suppress his anger.

"Potter!" He called out angrily, followed by a "Crabbe!" and both boys looked up at him, startled. Potter with a guilty look on his face and Crabbe with a questioningly. He really would have to address them with this and he would have to address them now. All of them should eat their rations and none of them should ask others for more.

At the same time Weasley looked at Potter with a strange look on his face and before he could say something the red-head was up from his mattress he was sitting at and had shoved Potter at the wall to his left.

"What are you doing?" He hissed angrily. "Giving the root to Crabbe? A Slytherin?"

"Stop it, Ron!" Granger got up too, just the moment when he, Snape, quickly rounded his desk with an angry shouted "Weasley!". "Harry had given one to you yesterday." Granger continued. "And to Lavender too."

"He gives food away to the Slytherins!" Weasley growled darkly and he was just in time to prevent Molly's youngest son from hitting his fist into Potter's face who was strangely frozen, not making any attempts to defend himself. He caught Weasley's wrist and held it in a firm grip, his dark eyes piercing the Gryffindor.

"What a display of behaviour, Mr. Weasley." He hissed. "Going against your own upon a situation that isn't as easy as you are used to. Unhand Mr. Potter this instant." He threatened and only when the boy had released Potter's shirt and therefore stopped pinning him against the wall did he release Weasley's wrist.

"Are you alright, Potter?" He asked, his eyes not leaving Weasley.

He only saw the black-haired boy nodding out of the corner of his eyes before he answered with a soft and choked "yes, sir" and he gave his attention back to the boy in front of him completely. He knew that Weasley only was hungry, as they all were, but he knew that this was only the beginning and if the boy didn't begin to see reason soon, then the situation would go out of hands within the next two days.

"If I ever see you acting in such a way again, Mr. Weasley, then be assured you will find yourself in quite some trouble." He silently said. "I won't take house points, I do not even know if it would be possible right now, and neither will I get you scrubbing cauldrons as every one of us has to keep as much strength up as possible. But just to begin with, you might sit yourself on your sorry behind and write an essay as to what you did, why you did it and what it meant to your friend. Three feet of parchment. You have until this evening."

"But …"

"There are no buts, Mr. Weasley." Snape leaned closer and hissed angrily. "You will write this essay and you will do so now!"

"You're bleeding, Harry." He heard Granger's shoked voice coming from his left and he frowned. Weasley had not hitten Potter. But maybe he had shoved him harder into the wall than he had thought and maybe Potter had hit his head. He would have a look at him as soon as Weasley was seated on one of the desks.

"'M fine, 'Mione." He heard Potter answering. "Just forget it."

Watching Weasley stomping towards the desks angrily and getting his parchments, ink and quill out he turned towards Potter, watching the teen over, ignoring the uncomfortable look the boy gave him.

"On his back, sir." Granger pointed out and Snape grabbed Potter's shoulder and simply turned him.

They all had abandoned their cloaks during the day, sparing them for the night, knowing that they would welcome their warmth during the nights that were colder than the days, even with the fire burning. Knowing that they would freeze the more during the night if they kept the cloaks on during the days too. It simply was the same effect as if wearing a travelling cloak during winter inside.

So Potter only wore his white shirt, as all of them did, and he easily could see blood soaking through the area where his shoulder blades were and he sighed. As it seemed the rough stone wall had scraped Potter's skin over the shoulder blades as there was nothing on the boy's bones that would have dampened the impact.

"Into my office, Mr. Potter." He said, shoving the boy into the direction he wanted him in. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, you two please see that such a display is not repeated while I am gone with Mr. Potter. If something happens, then however do not hesitate to get me." He turned back towards Potter who still stood frozen to the spot.

"The office, Mr. Potter!" He commanded and again shoved the teenager forwards. "Now!"

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_change of winds, change of views_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	6. change of winds, change of views

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, you two please see that such a display is not repeated while I am gone with Mr. Potter. If something happens, then however do not hesitate to get me." He turned back towards Potter who still stood frozen to the spot._

_"The office, Mr. Potter!" He commanded and again shoved the teenager forwards now seeing the blood that seeped through the boy's shirt for himself. "Now!"_

**Chapter six**

**Day three – Wednesday, fourth of September**

**Change of winds, change of views**

Guiding Potter towards the stool in front of his desk, his hand on the boy's shoulder, he pushed the teenager down into the chair, while he at the same time wondered wherefrom Potter had the injuries on his back, the blood seeping through the boy's shirt now visibly not only over his shoulder blades but on his lower back too.

Weasley had shoved him towards the walls while gripping him at the front of his shirt close to his throat. Thus yes, the impact had happened to Potter's shoulder blades the most. Of course the boy's lower back surely had come in contact with the wall as well, but not with enough force to leave bleeding cuts. The walls down here in the dungeons were stony walls, yes, but they were not ragged and irregular enough to really cause bleeding injuries upon a simple impact. A bruise, yes, but not really open wounds.

"Remove your shirt, please, Mr. Potter." He said while turning towards a cupboard in one corner of his office to get a cleaning and a healing potion. He really should have known such a situation might happen at one point, should have known how panicky human beings could get, especially as they all were only children. But honestly, he had not thought that it might happen so soon.

Shaking his head and frowning when he turned back towards the boy he noticed that Potter had not removed his shirt but was fidgeting with the hem of it nervously, his gaze lowered to the floor beneath his feet.

"Your shirt, Mr. Potter." He said, forcing himself to stay calm and to not snap at the teenager in annoyance. Potter was uncomfortable enough as it was.

"But I'm fine, sir." The brat answered. "Really."

"Simply follow my order, Mr. Potter and remove your shirt." Snape said, still trying to keep his annoyance under control and out of his voice. "And I will not ask you a fourth time."

Suddenly Potter leaped to his feet and looked at him angrily, again his chin was shoved forwards in a defiant manner, just as he had done earlier in the morning.

"Why would you care anyway?" The brat asked, his voice louder as it had been before. "You are no better than them! You just hate me as well as they do!"

"Would you mind telling me what exactly you are babbling about, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked with his eyebrow raised, he was annoyed and tired and not in the mood to play games.

"That you don't care! Like everyone!" Potter exclaimed, breathing heavily and Snape slowly but surely got angry by himself.

"I _do_ care, you silly child!" He hissed angrily at the teen. "Otherwise I would not ..."

"You lie!" Potter answered forcefully, interrupting him, his entire form trembling and Snape was sure that the boy was in some kind of shock. Well, of course he was, if he had been attacked by his best friend just moments ago. "Do you even know how many times I cared for myself and looked after my wounds alone because I knew that there was no one who cared and because I knew that the pain of being rejected would be worse than the physical pain?" Potter asked, his voice becoming angrier with each word he gave away. "No one ever cared and neither do you! But I don't care either, you know? I'm used to care for myself! I don't need someone who cares! I have _learned _to care for myself! So don't pretend you would care now!"

He was breathing heavily by the time he finished his little speech and he angrily wiped his arm across his eyes and glanced up at Snape. The man seemed to be made of stone, his eyes dark and cold and his harsh face set in dark lines, calm and motionless.

But then it happened so fast that Harry barely had any time to brace himself. Strong hands grabbed his upper arms in an iron grip and while Snape seemed to be slightly out of breath the older wizard snarled angrily, his face only inches from Harry's own. "Do inform me, Mr. Potter, what sort of people you grew up with that you think that nobody is going to take care of you while being in such a situation and injured."

It was in that one moment, while Snape again got deadly silent, watching him with narrowed eyes and his face white, that Harry realized that maybe he had said too much and suddenly he felt ill – and suppressing a sob he knew he had to get away before he would sick up right here and now in front of Snape.

He broke free from the firm grip that actually hurt and ran towards the door he knew would lead to the bathroom.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

An angry curse sounded from the doorway and Harry flinched as he steadied himself against the toilet and coughed harshly, pain flaring in his stomach. He painfully had emptied what little he had gotten into it a few minutes ago.

The sound of running water reached his ears and then a cool cloth was laid against his neck and a hand that seemed to be just as cold was placed over his forehead, supporting his tired and hurting head. He flinched away from the unexpected touch but instantly the hand that held the cool cloth on the back of his neck applied pressure and held him in place.

Snape knelt beside Potter's small and trembling form, trying to comfort the Gryffindor while he still tried to figure out the teen's words and at the same time he knew that the boy had been right. He already had learned that Potter had been neglected by those muggles that were his relatives and thus he knew that each word the boy had said had been right. No one ever had cared.

"Feeling better?" He quietly asked, trying to keep his tiredness, his anger and his worry out of his voice. That was not what the boy right now needed. He watched Potter close and after a weak and tired nod from the dark-haired boy he took the cloth away from the slender neck and gently pulled the small form towards him until the teenager leaned with his back against him.

Harry knew that it was Snape he was leaning against, but the coolness of the cloth and the man's hand felt so good against his much too warm face that right now he didn't care. He didn't even care when Snape gently wiped the cool cloth over his face.

Snape glanced at the child before him, not really knowing what to do with the obnoxious Gryffindor but knowing that he right now had to give his comfort to the boy. Potter's green eyes were wide and unfocused and the child's breathing was just much too quick for his liking while the boy was keeping up an almost annoyingly tirade of apologizing words but the Potions Master had long ago started to not listen to them. They were not only not necessary but they were wrong in the first place.

"Hush child." He softly said. "There is no need to apologize for being ill and there surely is no need to apologize for the fact that no one ever had taken care over you." And right then the boy's words hit him full force, the meaning behind those words and hesitantly he placed his arm around the boy's thin shoulder, pulling the child closer.

No one had ever taken care of Potter, of this child. He had lost his parents in the war and he had been placed with relatives that not only had neglected him but that actually had starved him. And no one had ever cared. The boy had learned to care for himself because no one ever had cared. Himself included. He had allowed his hate towards a dead man, towards James Potter, towards this boy's father, to blind him. No one ever cared about the abused and neglected children, about the unwanted children, no one but him. But he had not cared for _this _neglected and unwanted child.

Harry could feel Snape pulling him closer until his head too came in contact with a firm chest and he could feel the cool fabric of Snape's shirt underneath his cheek while a hand pushed his own hand that had grasped the front of his shirt, pulling at the fabric in order to get the much needed air into his lungs away before coming to rest over his chest.

"Relax, Potter." A soft voice instructed him and for a moment he really wondered if this voice could belong to Snape. It was ways too comforting and gentle for belonging to the Potions Master. "Take calm breathes, child. In … and out … just focus upon my voice … breathe in … and out … you will get through this …"

Snape could feel the blood of Potter's injuries on his back seeping through his own shirt, but right now he didn't care and he waited patiently until he felt that Potter actually relaxed within his arms before he got to his feet, gently pulling the boy up with him on his upper arms.

"Feeling better now, Mr. Potter?" He softly asked, patiently waiting for the boy's nod before he led the boy back to his office and again pushed him down into the chair he had been sitting in earlier.

For a moment he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that right now the boy didn't need the stern man he normally was. The boy right now needed the head of house he was for his Slytherins. And hadn't Potter said that down here in this situation they weren't Gryffindors and Slytherins? And hadn't he told Potter just last night that he wasn't only the head of Slytherin in this case? That he simply was a teacher to all of them?

He was the head of house to all of them right now and he should begin to act as such.

So kneeling in front of Potter he placed one hand on the boy's knee and the other underneath the boy's chin to pull up the head that was bent, the pale face still troubled.

"Would you please remove your shirt, Harry?" He silently asked. "There is no need to fear anything and surely not your teacher taking care of you. Just remove your shirt and allow me to take care of your injuries. It might not be easy to suddenly trust someone and surely not to trust someone who never had given you any reason to do so. And nevertheless I ask you to trust me now, Harry."

The boy's given name felt strange on his tongue, just like it had felt strange this morning during his conversation with the boy about his neglect at the hands of his relatives. But just like this morning he knew that it wasn't important to keep his distance to the Gryffindors. It wasn't important that he used the student's surenames. It was important that he treated them like he treated his Slytherins.

And it seemed to work. The boy still didn't look at him, but he lifted his hands and started to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, agonizingly slowly and with his fingers trembling, but he did.

The moment however when the boy had opened the shirt and began fidgeting with the hem of the fabric, the moment Snape could see the boy's chest through the gap in the now open shirt his eyes grew even darker as they normally were and he had to grit his teeth to keep his indifferent mask. Slowly so he wouldn't startle the child that clearly was already scared enough he took the fabric out of Potter's hands and shoved the shirt off the boy's shoulders.

The damage that he revealed while he took the shirt and simply laid it over Potter's thighs so the boy had something he could occupy his hands with to get his mind off Snape and what he was doing, shook him to the very core. Even the horrors the Death Eaters had loved to inflict upon their victims had been nothing compared to what had been done to this child.

Bruises and barely healing cuts covered virtually every inch of the thin body and Snape could swear that he could count every single bone under the boy's skin and with a gentle hand on one of the thin shoulders he carefully got Potter to turn so he could have a look at the boy's back – and to hide his shock from the boy too.

The boy's back was even worse, he noticed and even if it was nearly impossible to shock the Potions Master that had seen a lot during his work as a spy, he actually _was _shocked, really shocked, and he actually had to close his eyes and to press his teeth together even harder to prevent himself from hissing in alarm and fury.

Bruises in every forms and colors, covered the boy's back and he immediately recognized them as marks from beatings, accompanied by abrasions, burns and cuts that were barely healing and partially infected. And here too he could count each backbone that stood out prominently and grotesquely, revealing the boy's true starved state.

Those damn muggles had not just neglected the boy. They had starved him and they had beaten him, seriously so and he had to suppress a groan. This morning he had feared that Potter might be the first one to die. Right now he _knew_ it would be that way. If the situation didn't change soon, if they didn't find a way out of the dungeons soon, if he didn't get something more to eat into the boy than a cataneo root twice a day, then Potter wouldn't make it longer than a few days. He even wondered how the boy still was able to keep himself on his feet if his legs were as thin as were the arms that now were revealed to him as nothing more but thin sticks.

Getting to his feet and taking a painkiller from his desk he reached the potion towards the boy with a nearly shaking hand while he promised himself that he was going to make sure that the monsters responsible for this would pay. If they made it out of here alive.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Snape didn't say anything while he reached him a potion and Harry wanted nothing else than to get back to hearing the older wizard's voice, the man's sarcastic comments, just to distract him from the fear he felt. Anything, even insults would be better than this silence. It wasn't that he enjoyed being insulted, but this silence from the Slytherin head of house was just annoying. It was annoying, not knowing what Snape thought. The man surely was angry at him, but he didn't dare to look up into the Potions Master's face. If he just would say something, then he would be able to hear _how _angry Snape was.

Watching Potter drinking the potion without even looking at it, his head still bent and his hands still trembling, Snape shook his head and then set about cleaning the boy's injuries and covering them with a mild healing slave. He could heal them with a stronger potion, but he only would push Potter over the edge then and into shock. The boy was in no state to deal with too many magical potions right now, his body would not be able to handle magic at all right now he feared. The boy was too thin and malnourished for that and he now knew why the boy always had been so small for his age, now as the fourth year that he was, he was barely as tall as the first years.

He nearly huffed while he remembered the first potions lesson he'd had the boy in.

He actually had walked over to the boy, had seated himself opposite him, not really to give him the answers to the questions he had known the boy wouldn't know. He never did such, seating himself opposite a student. At least not if it wasn't one of his snakes. No, he had done so because he had not believed that the small boy he'd had sitting in his class back then had been an eleven year old first year. And as he had known that Potter junior had been eleven years old, he had gone over to the boy to have a closer look at him, to ensure that it really had been Harry Potter.

Moving over to the boy's front he started covering the bruises and cuts over the child's chest. Potter still didn't look at him and his fingers were tangled in the shirt he held in his lap.

"What exactly happened, Harry?" He gently asked, even if he already knew the answer to this question but he knew he had been silent for long enough. The boy's nervousness clearly showed it.

"Just the usual." Potter answered, seemingly struggling to get even a hoarse whisper out and he could tell that the boy still was in some pain. Well, he hadn't given him the normal pain relieving potion but a weaker one, not daring to give him the stronger version.

"I am sure that my usual is different from your usual, Harry." He quietly said, watching the boy close. It wasn't the first time that he had such a talk, but he just never had thought that he would have such a talk with Potter. The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"I do know that you think it is obvious what happened, Mr. Potter." Snape said, keeping his voice still calm and gentle. "And that my question therefore is a stupid question, but I simply hoped that you would be able to tell me."

He took the boy's small wrists into his hand, sighing for a moment when he noticed just how skeletal the thin arms and wrists were, feeling nothing under his fingers than bones, sinews and skin. The infected welts that ran around the small wrists told him enough and again he had to keep himself from closing his eyes for a moment.

This was Lily's child, damn, and to see Lily's child being mistreated like that, being tortured like that, suffering like that …

"When did this abuse start, Harry?" He asked, already knowing the answer to this question too. The barely healed cuts, bruises and burns were covering most of the boy's skin, were covering older scars, scars that were years old. "And don't tell me you don't know, Harry. You are far too intelligent to not knowing for how long this went on."

There was a long pause during which Potter didn't answer him, still didn't even _look_ at him, but he refused to snap at the boy impatiently. He knew how hard it was for those children to admit everything. And for Potter to admit it to him, Snape, it must seem to be an impossible task.

"Since always." Came the small whisper finally and he nodded.

"And how often did they beat you?" He asked, again knowing the answer. It wasn't a once during a month occurrence. The boy's body simply was too damaged for such. And from what he had learned this morning, the fact that the boy had to – _sneak out bread_ so he had something to eat at least twice a week, it was proof enough that the Dursleys were ready to do everything to get the boy killed.

"Three or four times a week. Normally." The teenager finally whispered, nearly sobbing now and Snape had to prevent himself from giving a dark growl away, had to force himself to keep his distance for now, knowing that Potter wouldn't want to be physically comforted just yet. Knowing that the boy wouldn't continue then.

"If you only would have said something, child!" Snape finally sighed, while covering the boy's wrist with the healing salve too. "To Albus, to Minerva, and yes, even to me. We would have been able to do something."

Well, from the way Potter looked aside he knew that the boy didn't believe him. Maybe he would believe him that he would have tried to help him, that he would have healed him as soon as he was back at Hogwarts, but he didn't believe him that he would have been able – or even tried – to get him out of this household.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" He finally asked

Harry still watched Snape's long fingers surrounding his wrist and he was surprised at how soft Snape's touch was, it was almost careful, even when he had covered them with the healing balm and it was strange. Really strange. He would have bet that Snape couldn't be so gentle and still not looking at the man he shook his head.

"Are you in pain anywhere else?" He heard Snape asking and for a moment he considered to shake his head again but then he nodded, knowing that it wouldn't do any good if he lied to the man right now. Snape would find out anyway and he only would get angry, what he better did not risk right now. Snape was already angry enough.

"Where?" The Potions Master asked, already fearing the worst.

"Everywhere." Potter's voice was nothing more than a frightened and pain filled small whisper, terrified as the first years he had answering him when they first came into his house. But Potter shouldn't be terrified of him, least of all now.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had hated Potter for years, had been so sure that he was arrogant and selfish, just as his father had been. And he had shown his feelings towards the boy quite clearly and with all passion he owned. And he was indeed a quite passionate man. He had loved with passion once and he hated with passion.

"What kind of pain is it?" He asked, his voice too barely above a whisper.

Never mind how much he had hated the boy, during the past days he had learned that the brat wasn't arrogant and that he wasn't selfish either. What he had mistaken for arrogance had been the last remnants of dignity the boy had kept together somehow to show in form of a mask towards the people, and what he had mistaken for being selfish had been nothing else than pure survival instinct. It had been nothing else than his Slytherins did.

"I don't know." Potter answered, still in a rough whisper. "Kind of cramps in my limbs. Sort of."

Nodding Snape sighed again in frustration. The boy's muscles cramped because of the lack of nourishment. The boy's metabolism had shut down and his body had started to take energy from the muscle mass in order to survive. So it indeed was as bad as he had feared.

"Those cramps are the result of lack of food." He softly said, running his thumb over the bony hand he still held in his own without even recognizing what he did. "I cannot do anything against that."

The boy had not bent the rules just to go and stroll through the castle as he so often had accused him of doing. He had done so to simply be of help, just as he now tried to simply be of help. He had left his dorm after curfew because he had tried to help Hagrid getting rid of a dragon. He had left his dorm after curfew because he had to try and safe the philosopher's stone, and he had left his dorm after curfew to get rid of the basilisk that had threatened the entire school, not to mention that the boy had left his dorm after curfew to find a person that had been a mass murderer, that had gotten away while hiding as a rat and blaming Black.

Sighing again he took the shirt that still lay over Potter's lap and placed it into the boy's hands.

"Get dressed, child." He gently said.

The brat had not tried to gain even more fame while acting like a hero. With the knowledge he now had, and he was sure that he right now judged the boy correctly, he guessed that Potter had even hated this fame. No, he only had tried to help.

The really sad part in this all was, that the boy always had tried to help others while he had not dared to address an adult with his _own _problems and ask for help for himself.

"You really do think that there is no one who cares, child. Am I right?" He softly asked.

The boy didn't answer however and with another sigh and only a moment of hesitation he extended his hand and gently stroke the boy's hair away from his forehead, his dark eyes peering down at the child.

"You are wrong, if you really think so." He gently whispered.

This simple action made the boy actually hitch a breath and he had to struggle keeping his tears hidden from him. the words surely must have been balm on a wounded soul that was too deeply wounded to be healed.

"Feeling better a bit?" Snape asked and after seeing Potter's nod a slight smile graced the side of his mouth briefly as he simply nodded by himself. He knelt down again so he could look directly into those worried green eyes and lightly he placed his hands upon the much too thin shoulders.

"Listen, Mr. Potter, and listen close." He finally said, his voice serious. "I promise you, you will never go back to this household again, do you understand?"

Harry watched the Potions Master unsurely, fearfully, not ready to believe him yet. But there was no smirk on the harsh face of the older man and all that he could see in those black eyes was seriousness, that his teacher spoke the truth.

"You cannot promise that." The boy finally whispered. "You won't be able to keep me out of there. The headmaster said I have to go back there each summer to strengthen the wards that keep my relatives and me safe."

Furrowing his brows in anger Snape had to keep himself from growling darkly. Albus had what? Albus actually had told Potter that those damn, bloody and blasted wards would keep his relatives safe? To get the boy on his damn need to help others? Even if those relatives he kept safe were beating, abusing, mistreating, neglecting and starving him in a way that now would cost the boy's life?

"Let me assure you, Mr. Potter." He said, leaning closer to the boy. "I can, and I will. You will not go back there, even if I have to take you in by myself! Is that understood, Mr. Potter?"

Startled, shocked, the boy nodded, the green eyes that watched him much too large and expressive and Snape nearly growled darkly.

"But … why …?" Potter finally managed to ask, his voice still a scared and rough whisper. The boy simply had been through too much since he had left Hogwarts over two month ago for his summer break.

"Because no child deserves to be in such pain, Mr. Potter." He answered. "And now go and try to sleep for at least a few hours as I am sure you will avoid sleep tonight. We will talk about this later, when you are not that damn weak and miserable." It was meant to sound harsh but even _he_ could hear that he only sounded worried and he shook his head over his own display of emotions before he simply pulled the damn brat closer, knowing that _that _it was what the boy right now needed.

Potter stiffened when he pulled him close and ran his arm around the boy's shoulder, placed his other hand over the back of the boy's head before he relaxed and he slightly shifted giving in to the comfort that was offered to him and leaning his head onto his shoulder.

It had felt easy, pulling Potter against him, easier than it _should_ feel, and feeling the damn brat relaxing against him didn't make it any better, the thin and smaller body of the wizarding child easily fitting in between his longer limbs as one arm came around the boy's shoulders and the other hand rested on the back of the child's head until Potter rested his forehead against his chest. It didn't make it any better at all.

The boy again kept murmuring annoyingly afraid and fearful words in a terrifyingly young voice that sounded strangely like apologies again and Snape sighed once more. This indeed had not been what he had been asking for just a few days earlier. Not even a few hours earlier.

Yawning and closing his eyes, Harry wondered how this came about, Snape being so nice all of a sudden, but then – well, he had known that there was more to Snape than met the eye and while a part of him was filled with dread at really trusting the older wizard, the other part was strangely at ease while he could feel the rough but comfortingly cool fabric of the man's shirt. Snape had been friendly this morning too. And yesterday. So, he already had learned that the man had another side beside of the dark and cold one he always had shown them during the past three years.

He allowed himself to fall asleep within the professor's arms with a small sigh of ease, knowing that tomorrow Snape might be nasty towards him again, that tomorrow he might ridicule him for the weakness he right now displayed, but for the moment there only was peace, Snape had taken care of him. For the first time there had been someone who had taken care of him. And for the moment, as he had healed his body, it was all that mattered. Even if it was Snape.

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Potter seemed to shiver when he placed the small body onto the sofa in the small rest room that was attached to the potions laboratory and a small whimper escaped the boy's lips while lines of worry and fear appeared on the pale face that was too young for such lines. The boy was no adult. The boy was a child. A fourteen year old child and he should feel free of such worries and fears, of such pain and terrors.

"Hush, Potter." He sighed, trying to sound harsh while at the same time he knew he wouldn't manage. If he wouldn't know that none of them were able to use magic down here and right now since they were imprisoned, then he would say that this bloody brat was waving a strange spell over him.

He was Severus Snape, for Merlin's sake.

Shivering again the boy flinched away from him, feeling his anger as it seemed and reaching out he placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder, again murmuring words of comfort to the child.

"No don't!" The boy pitifully whispered while he tried to struggle against his hand and the only thing Snape could think of right now was to sit there and to simply card his hand through the mop of black hair, placing a cool hand to the child's cheek and forehead to stop whatever nightmare may have been trying to raise itself in the child's mind, to settle him back down until the boy was back to gentle sleep.

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Knowing that right now Potter would sleep for hopefully at least an hour Snape went back to his classroom. He was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at Dumbledore. Angry at Minerva, who always seemed to have known something, but never had done anything. And he was angry with Petunia Dursley he knew as Petunia Evans, Lily's sister.

Entering the classroom he cast a quick and severe glance over the students, noticing that everything was fine. Weasley silently was sitting at one of the desks, writing, just as he had been ordered to. Granger and … closing his eyes and gritting his teeth he shook his head. He really should start to think of them differently. So – Miss Granger and Draco were sitting together with the other Slytherins and Gryffindors near the fire, casting nearly shocked gazes at Weasley from time to time.

"Miss Granger, Draco, you gained yourself two points each for having had an eye on the situation." Snape finally said, taking the chalk and adding two points to Draco's name and writing Miss Granger's name underneath Potter's and adding two points as well. "Mr. Weasley. Get one of the desks over here to the fireplace. There is no need to be colder than necessary during your detention."

Gazing over the students once again he took in pale faces that showed the first signs of hunger, of tiredness, of fear and of panic, and he knew that it only would get worse. And soon. And Potter was the one who already _was _worse.

"Theodore." He addressed his Slytherin.

His Slytherin!

He huffed.

Right now Potter was as much his student as was Theodore. Theodore might be his Slytherin, yes, but if that was so, then Potter simply was his Gryffindor. They all were the same right now.

"Yes, sir?" Theodore asked, looking at him curiously.

Potter!

He huffed once more.

Mr. Potter!

The boy had earned himself the respect to be called Mr. Potter instead of Potter. And to be honest, then he had to admit that _Mr_. Potter had even earned himself the respect to be called Harry by him just as he called his Slytherins by their given names. If the Gryffindors were as much his Gryffindors as the Slytherins were his Slytherins, then he should think a few things over.

"Mr. Potter - _Harry_, is sleeping in the rest room behind my office right now, Theodore." He said. "Would you please be so kind and sit with him? And to inform me as soon as he wakes?"

"Of course, sir." Theodore said, getting to his feet.

"Take your blanket with you, Theodore." He said. "There is no fire burning in the rest room."

Blushing for a moment over the fact that he had not thought of this by himself he nodded and took the blanket before he left the classroom to watch over Potter. Over Mr. Potter, damn!

Over Harry. Harry was Potter's son, yes, but Harry was Lily's child too. And he had mistaken the boy deeply, by the way. How could he have not once wondered what had become of Lily's child throughout all those years? Had Lupin or Minerva or Albus – or any other one of those who once had counted Lily and James Potter as their friends ever checked up on their son?

Apparently no one had. Or if someone had, then this one had ignored the boy's abuse and neglect.

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Draco watched his godfather closely the moment he came back and he lifted his eyebrow before he cast a quick glance towards Granger and then Weasley, trying to judge their thoughts. Weasley still seemed to be angry while Granger seemed to be ashamed of Weasley's behavior earlier.

Uncle Severus himself looked more tired than when he had left with Potter. And Potter was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing his eyes at his godfather he took a second glance and recognized that he not only looked tired, but that he looked frustrated, defeated somehow, and worried. _Really _worried.

So, Potter's injuries had been rather severe, he thought. He knew his godfather, and he knew that the man always felt worried about his Slytherins being injured, coming back to school from their summer holidays injured. But Potter was a Gryffindor and Potter was none of the abused children in the Slytherin house.

And nevertheless uncle Severus seemed to be worried deeply. And uncle Severus had used Potter's given name, Harry.

Well, he had to admit the situation was not the most ideal.

Potter had been attacked by his own friend, by Weasley. They were down here in the dungeons, locked in the potions classroom since three days now with barely anything to eat. No one knew when they would be freed nor how long they would have something to eat left. Not to mention that they would have another night they had to spend down here as it seemed.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_a few rules being set  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	7. a few rules being set

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_Potter had been attacked by his own friend, by Weasley. They were down here in the dungeons, locked in the potions classroom since three days now with barely something to eat. No one knew when they would be freed nor how long they would have something to eat left. not to mention that they would have another night they had to spend down here as it seemed._

**Chapter seven**

**Day four – Thursday, fifth of September**

**A few rules being set**

He had brought Theodore's mattress into the restroom, not wanting to have Potter being alone right now and he had told Theodore at the same time that he would be able to sleep there this night without fearing that the Gryffindors found out about the boy's nightmares as he would not be able to take the dreamless sleep potion tonight, having had it the night before.

Nevertheless he had seen the reluctance in Theodore's face at first at the prospect of sleeping in the same room as Potter, having Potter knowing about his nightmares and he actually had considered telling his snake that no worry would be needed as the lion had the same nightmares _he _had. But Theodore had beaten him to this.

He had gazed at him seriously, not even asking but nearly stating that Potter too had been abused and that Potter too had nightmares, probably remembering the first night they'd had been down here, both of them avoiding sleep, and his unsureness only had been showed by the small "hasn't he?" at the end of his statement. Snape simply had nodded and told him to go to sleep and it had been a remarkably peaceful night. He had woken Theodore once, and he only had needed to look after Potter two times.

And right now he was sitting in the classroom at his desk, watching the students thoughtfully from time to time, knowing that he would have to address them, that he would have to set up some rules for them and that he would have to talk to them about a few things. The events that had gone out of his hands yesterday had been proof enough that in this situation he was needed to be more than just their teacher and he could not allow such to repeat itself.

'_You would not have learned about Potter being abused so brutally if things would not have gone out of hands.'_ The small voice in the back of his mind whispered and even if he didn't like it, he had to agree. Well, he would talk to them nevertheless about a few things, but he would wait until Potter and Theodore were both awake and present too.

Well, speaking of the devil, Theodore was entering the classroom silently, leaving the door ajar and coming over to him to stand in front of his desk. He looked up from the notes he was taking of what had happened during the night and he placed the quill beside the parchment. He simply wanted to have written down the events that were happening during their stay here while being locked, the decisions they made, their thoughts, which potions he used and the current state the students were in. Well, he simply wanted to write down whatever he thought would be important for Albus to know, should they die before they were freed.

"Yes, Theodore?" He asked, locking his dark eyes with the boy's blue ones.

"Good morning, sir." The boy answered. "Potter is about to wake up, I guess."

"Good." Snape nodded his head. "I will have a look in a moment. Did you sleep well?"

"Actually … yes, sir." The boy answered, blushing and averting his eyes for a moment before looking back at him. "It took me a while to fall asleep, but then I guess I have slept well. I just woke you once."

"That is not correct, Theodore." Snape said, not wanting the boy's thoughts going into this direction. "It rather is the other way round and I have woken you."

Knowing what the Potions Master meant, namely to get the blame off him, Theodore, the boy nodded and actually smiled. It wasn't the first time after all that they had this particular conversation.

"Go over to the rest of you insufferable brats and wait there for me." Snape shook his head. "I will have a look at Mr. Potter and be back with him soon to have a few words with all of you."

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Harry woke slowly, immediately knowing that something wasn't as it had been yesterday. He still was tired, but he felt more rested than he had been in weeks. And he still was in some sort of pain, but it wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. And he still was hungry, but he also knew that _that _was something that couldn't be helped and he ignored this particular feeling. He was used to ignore his hunger and the pain it caused.

But his back didn't hurt so much anymore. And neither did his chest and his ribs. He actually was able to breath without pain. Well, that at least was an improvement and he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling for a moment.

But then the memories came back. Memories about his conversation with Snape and the man healing his injuries and he softly groaned in frustration.

Snape knew.

Snape knew about the Dursleys not giving him food, knew about the Dursleys not caring about him, about the Dursleys beating him, hating him. Snape knew, Snape knew everything! How weak he was, what a freak he was, how worthless he was.

Snape had told him that he had been proud at him. Sort of. Had given him points and had been friendly with him, had even held him. But now … Snape surely wouldn't be proud of him any longer and Snape surely would not … he surely wouldn't give him any more points and he maybe even would take away those he had given him.

He should be used to losing points, it was what Snape always did after all, but somehow the thought that Snape had given him points had made him feeling good. More good than he had been ready to admit. It had been as if Snape actually had been over his hate towards him, as if Snape actually would have cared. But that would be over now, now that Snape knew.

On the other hand – yes, he of course wished that no one knew about his uncle and about the beatings and that he hadn't gotten something to eat there, and surely he didn't want Snape and the Slytherins to know. But at the same time the thought that Snape knew brought out some strange sense of comfort, just as if he didn't have to try so hard to hide it in front if the man anymore, just as if he could be more himself around the man, as if he wouldn't have to play an act of strength in front of the man anymore.

But at the same time – the thought scared him. Snape now knew what a weak and disobedient freak he was, being punished by his uncle for his incompetence and his freakishness.

Well, yes – somewhere buried deep down in his head he knew that the treatment he received by his aunt and uncle was not what should be, was not what was right, but he was not able to really understand why no one ever had stopped it if it was not right of them to starve him and to beat him. It simply was ingrained in his head so deeply that it was a punishment, meaning that he deserved it, that he wasn't able to really believe otherwise.

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Snape entered the rest room with his usual silent steps after shoving the ajar door open and he had the opportunity to watch Potter for a moment as the boy had not noticed his presence yet.

Potter was sitting on the couch he had laid him at yesterday, cross-legged as it seemed, indian-style, the blanked around his lower body and his hands playing with the hem of the comforter, deep in thoughts and he looked as if blaming himself with the worst thoughts possible for what had been displayed yesterday and during last night and he sighed. Well, it had to be expected. They all did blame them selves after all. But he would put a stop to this right here and now.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter." He said after a moment, crossing the room and sitting into an armchair opposite the sofa the teen was sitting on, looking up at him with unsure and startled, fearful eyes.

"Good morning, sir." Potter said, more a murmur than anything else before he averted his eyes.

"Do me the favor and look at me, Mr. Potter." Snape said, his voice serious and low. "What has been done to you is not your fault and you never should blame yourself for it. I want you to never avoid my eyes again, Mr. Potter. You have survived years of violent beatings and starving at the hands of your relatives and you should be proud of this little fact – that they never managed to simply kill you. _You _– are _not _– _weak_! Did I make myself clear, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir." The teenager quietly said. "I'm sorry, sir."

"You will never ever again, I repeat, absolutely _never – ever – again_, apologize for things that are not your fault, Mr. Potter, and surely you will never ever again apologize for being mistreated by your relatives. Is that too understood, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir." The boy answered in a whisper, nearly shrinking into the backrest of the sofa. "I'm …"

"Good." Snape nodded his head, ignoring the fact that the boy had barely been able to catch himself just in the last moment before apologizing once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir." Potter answered, looking aside again.

"Eyes up, Potter!" Snape commanded sharply, not caring about the fact that he was startling the boy who looked at him with large eyes for a moment before he got back control over himself. Good, if the boy was startled, then he would think about all that what had been done to him instead of hiding it underneath all the layers within his mind. He just needed to find the limits, past which he never should push the child.

"Good, that's better, Mr. Potter." Snape said. "How is your chest doing? Are you able to breathe more easily now?"

"Yes, sir." Potter answered, his voice still low, hesitant and subdued. Well, Potter was not used to those kind of conversations like his Slytherins were. Theodore had answered his questions with less trouble, but Theodore had been in this particular situation with him since three years now. He was used to those questions and he was used to answer them. He was used to him, Snape, his head of house. Not so Potter.

"Good." Snape said seriously. "See that you tell me if it changes, Mr. Potter, and no games of hide and seek, this is far too serious. You _will_ tell me if you get worse again or you will find yourself in quite some trouble. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And how is your back doing?"

"It's ok, sir."

"What, Mr. Potter, is your definition of – ok?" Snape asked, not because he didn't know what Potter meant, but because he wanted to know if the teen would be able to say more than – 'yes, sir' and 'ok, sir' or … 'sorry, sir'.

"Uhm … well …" Potter made and for a moment Snape wanted to snap at the boy, but then he decided against it. It wouldn't do any good to either of them if he pushed the boy too far right now.

"I do know that you are not used to such conversations, Mr. Potter, what is the reason as to why I will not press the subject right now." He said. "But remember, that I not always will give in. You will have to learn speaking about what has been done to you and you will have to learn that it is not your fault either. I do know how difficult this is for you, but as I already told you yesterday and the day before, I am rather pleased with your way of handling this situation, more so as I now know how serious your particular situation is, and thus I am sure you will be able to manage what I demand of you. Namely your trust and your willingness to go on."

The teenager did not give him an answer, but neither had he expected one and he stood.

"If you are ready, Mr. Potter, then we will go back to the classroom as I have a few words that concerns each of you." He said, extending his hand towards the door to indicate that he expected Potter to go ahead of him.

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He was standing in front of the students, in front of all of them, leaning against the desk behind him and his arms folded in front of his chest while his dark eyes watched each of those seventeen teenagers that were sitting on the mattresses in front of the fire.

Blankets and pillows were laying in untidy heaps on the mattresses, as were books, a book-bag here and a cloak there, as well as quills or parchments and this part of the classroom looked rather like a dormitory than like a classroom at all. The only thing still not out-of-place was the fact that, even if huddled together closer now, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors still were separated somehow.

"It is time, I believe, that we set a few ground rules." He began, ignoring the frustrated groans coming from the students, having known they would come. "The first one is, whatever food is handed out, it will be eaten by the person it is handed to and by no one else. We are here since four days and I suggest it is time that we face the fact that we do not know how much longer we will be in this situation. So it is important that everyone of you – and if I say everyone, then I _do mean_ everyone – will be eating what is given. No one will ask for more as everyone will get all the same and it only would be unfair to ask others to share when _every one_ of you is hungry. The demonstration that had been displayed yesterday will _not_ be repeated and everyone who does not go by this rule will be writing a three-foot long essay as to why I set this precise rule. Is that understood by everyone?"

Seventeen heads nodded at him and he heard a few murmured "yes, sir" while he watched them intently, ensuring that he had eye-contact with each and every student for at least a few seconds.

"Good." He then said. "Mr. Crabbe, write this rule down onto the blackboard, please."

He watched Vincent getting to his feet and walking over to the blackboard, taking the chalk and writing the first rule down.

"This here is no game anymore and neither is it a match or any harmless situation else." He continued then. "This here is day four in a situation that _might _end in death and all of you should begin to lay aside your prejudices, your pride and your rivalry and work together instead. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy already have seen reason and have made a truce. So if they can do this, then all of you can do the same. I expect you to respect not only each other's strengths, but each other's weaknesses as well. The more you fight, the lesser will be your ability to save strength. This might sound harsh to you, but I fear we simply _have _to face the truth that maybe … that maybe we will have to face death. I do not believe so, and neither do I want _you _believing that we might die, but we should nevertheless keep this little fact in our minds. So, rule number two is: there are no houses. Right here and now, we all are the same. Is that too understood by everyone?"

This time there was more reluctance, especially from Weasley, Thomas, Finnigan, Gregory and Vincent.

"_Is – that – understood_, I asked." He growled in a dangerously low voice and quickly all of them nodded.

"Good." Snape hissed, again locking his black eyes with the eyes of the children in front of him. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to frighten them thus, and never in all his years of teaching would he have thought to find himself in such a situation. But he had to be realistic and he needed his students to be realistic too. He would be able to comfort them later, but right now he needed them to see reason."See that you won't forget it! Mr. Weasley, go and write the rule down. There are no houses!" He waited a few moments, not only to give the teens in front of him the chance to get his words sunken in, but to calm himself too.

"Well, all of you soon will get weaker due to the lack of real food." He finally continued. "I will do what lies in my power to provide you with whatever edible things are found down here, but there is no way of telling if it will be enough. If I however catch any of you hiding his or her weakness, pain, fear, misery, dizziness, tiredness and exhaustion – or whatever it is that will make you feel ill, then you will find yourself in some trouble too. You are not to hide your misery, not from each other and surely not from me so I can help if possible. This situation has noting to do with heroism but only with survival and there is no shame in asking for help or comfort. I of course will accept you trying to be strong and brave, but you on the other hand will accept that you will get weaker and that you will have to accept help if it is offered. So, your third rule is: no hiding of your weakness, exhaustion and pain and no teasing others with their weakness, exhaustion and pain either. Did I make myself clear?"

Again there were seventeen heads nodding, even if only reluctantly, and a few "yes, sir" were heard. He again waited until he'd had eye contact with every one of them to ensure a positive answer.

"Good." He then said. "Mr. Potter, you are to write this particular rule onto the blackboard."

He watched Potter getting to his feet and walking over to the blackboard, taking the chalk from Weasley who threw a dark glance at his friend and then writing the rule down. He still would have to keep an eye on Weasley, he knew.

"Every human body needs food and water. We do not have many things edible and the few we have will be used up eventually. I of course will provide you with nutrient potions as long as possible but neither will they be available forever, nor will they keep you alive forever. What we however have is water. And as I already have told you, it is important and I expect you to use this opportunity. So your fourth rule is: every one of you will drink as much as possible. Miss Davis, please go and write this rule down."

He paused and watched Tracy taking the chalk from Potter who went back to his mattress while the girl wrote down the rule on the blackboard. Tracy had not been drinking as much as he had told them to do two days ago and he hoped that, with writing down this rule, she would remember. In fact, he had chosen the students to write down those particular rules he thought they had problems following, hoping that thus they would keep them in mind.

"And last but not least, sleep, diversions and some kind of normality will help to keep all of you as calm as possible, as relaxed as possible and thus as strong as possible. I expect you to sleep as much as you can, to rest at least if you cannot sleep, to read, to write, to converse, to play games, or to do whatever you can think of as long as it is no strenuous activity and I expect all of you to find a routine you are comfortable with. Right now we have two students down here who suffer from serious nightmares." He did not look at Theodore and Potter, not ready yet to give them away, knowing that both of them right now felt betrayed by him, but he would give them the chance to understand before he would give their names away.

"I can understand that both students are not ready to give away this little information, but I will not allow them to give up their much needed sleep just because they fear that their fellow students might judge them as sleep deprivation only will eat up their strengths. Both students would be in different houses if we still had them installed, one in Gryffindor and one in Slytherin, so it will be no unfair situation. Both students have their reasons for those nightmares and thus there is no reason for the rest of you to judge them or to make fun of them. I will provide both with dreamless sleep potion every second night, but this potion cannot be given each night. So both students will suffer from those nightmares every other day and I expect all of you to act mature enough to not only accept this little fact, but to be of help in form of waking them if necessary. Suffering from a nightmare is terrible enough in the first place and there always is a reason for a nightmare. Not to mention the fact that soon more of you will have such nightmares from time to time. So there is no need to be ashamed of those, nor to judge them. Is that absolutely understood?"

He watched the students giving their nods, some with curious faces looking around them, some with thoughtful gazes and some – two to be precise – with drawn and miserable faces, only nodding reluctantly.

"Good. See that you do remember that. Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott are the two students I mentioned and I now give both their names away not to mistreat their trust, but so that both are in the same place and will be able to lay down for sleep without having to try and avoid sleep in order to hide their nightmares – and so neither of you have a reason to tease any of them. As Mr. Potter already had his rule to write down I chose Mr. Nott to write this particular rule onto the blackboard to be remembered. Rule number five is to sleep as much as possible, to divert each other and to set into a routine with as much normality and comfort as possible."

He watched Theodore reluctantly getting up and walking towards the blackboard, throwing a nearly angry gaze at him – while Potter looked quite miserable - and he could understand the two boys. Right now – even if they _only might _understand his reasons – they just felt betrayed. But they would understand with time. And he would ensure that everyone who judged them would be writing for the rest of his or her stay down here.

"Do you have any questions?" He then asked.

Of course it was Miss Granger whose hand shot up and he couldn't help lifting his eyebrow at her. He should have known. He normally would have ignored her, simply to teach her that not only she was to give answers but that he expected other students to use their brains and to think about his questions too, and to answer them, but he also knew that he should ignore no one in the situation they right now were in. So he gazed at her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"You said that we might die down here. Do you really believe that? Or do we have a chance? Will we really die?" The girl asked and he had to pinch the bridge of his nose. Well, it had been clear that this questions might come up and the fearful faces of the other students that were looking at him expectantly were proof enough to him that every one of them had the same questions on their minds. They were no children after all, they were young witches and wizards, teenagers, and intelligent enough to think about this possibility and to understand what it meant. But they were no adults either. In some ways they still _were _children, with fears and with insecurities.

"I cannot promise you what will be happening as the future is unwritten yet and no one can know what will be." He answered after a moment of considering his next words. "But I _can _promise you that I will do everything that lies in my power that all of you will survive this and I _can _assure you that I _do _believe that this will _not _end in the death of either of you. I _do believe_ it, and I want _you _to believe in this either. None of you will die down here and all of you will leave this place on your own feet! It is important that you believe in this. None of us can know it, but it is important that we do believe in it. Is that understood?"

The faces of the seventeen teenagers that nodded at him again were drawn, tired, full of doubt and scared, but he could see hope in their eyes as well and that was enough for him right now.

"Good." He said. "Then you might write this down on the board, Miss Granger. We will survive this."

Draco was the next one who lifted his hand and he nodded at the boy.

"Those points …" Draco said. "What will happen with them the moment we get out? Will they – I mean …"

"All of you might collect points and the moment this all will be over you will be able to change those points into whatever it is you wish." He said. "I will give out those points to you if you deserve them, but I won't take any points away. Those you have will be yours until the end. Whatever end it is we might face. Added to this, I name Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott as - let me call it - group prefects. Both of them too will be able to give out points. You will listen to their advises and you will listen to their orders, but they won't be able to punish you for anything. Your responsibility, Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott, will be to listen to your classmates, to come to me with problems and to find ideas, solutions and ways to keep your minds busy and from worrying too much. On the other hand, Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott are not to be bothered with trivialities. Please, Mr. Malfoy, write down what I just announced."

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Snape had thought about those rules during the past few hours, during yesterday already and during last night, knowing that it was important that he gave them something, that he gave them more than just some edible things that might keep their bodies alive for some time, knowing that it was important that he gave them a reason to fight. And not to fight each other, but to fight together and for themselves, and for each other.

He looked over at Theodore who had stood near the office door, who had leaned against the wall and who – right now – was sliding down the wall and landing on his bottom, his knees pulled up while he hugged them at the same time as he placed his head on top of them and started to cry, most probably too upset to keep himself together any longer. There was not only the stress the past three and a half days had been pressing them. But there were the abuse Theodore had been through at the hands of his father, the nightmares, the fear and the pain, the distrust and the lack of understanding as to why he had made him as a prefect too. And all in all together, it simply was too much for the child to handle.

As it was for Potter who was in the same position as was Theodore, he thought, looking around in search for the smaller boy, not finding him.

He watched the scene unfold in front of him for a moment and then he did the only thing he knew was necessary right now. He went over to where Theodore was sitting, sat next to the boy and placed his arm around his shoulders. He could feel Theodore flinching for a moment and he could feel his muscles tightening, but he soon relaxed and before he knew what was happening, the boy buried his face into his robes, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and continued to cry.

"Hush, Theodore." He whispered, tightening the grip he had around the boy's shoulders. "What got you so upset?"

He nearly laughed at his own stupid question, having answered it by himself a moment ago. But he also knew that Theodore had to accept it by himself too. They all had to accept. All of them had to accept different things, but they all had to accept in the first place.

"Why did you tell them?" The boy finally asked. "That wasn't fair! I trusted you!"

"I do know this, Theodore." He seriously said. "I do know that it wasn't fair and I do know that you did trust me. And you will trust me again the moment you understand. I however do know that right now you only feel hurt and I will accept this. But I did this for a reason, Theodore. The moment they know, you do not have to hide your nightmares any longer by avoiding sleep, what only would be fatal in the long run. This way, you can go to sleep because they already _do _know. They won't however judge you, I am sure. And you are not the only one either, but you have known this already. Do you see my point?"

"Yes, sir." Theodore answered, still sobbing. "But it wasn't fair nevertheless."

"I know." Snape said, running his hand through the boy's hair. "But it was necessary. There is no hiding such things, Theodore. We all should know how each of us is doing, were our strengths lay and where our weaknesses lay so we can consider the situation we are in correctly and so we can depend on each other. Do you understand how important that is?"

There was a nod, a reluctant one, and there was no verbal answer, but it was enough for Snape at the moment. He knew that Theodore would understand and that he would accept it within the next day or two, and he knew that Theodore still trusted him, even if he now felt betrayed, he still trusted him, even if he felt he didn't. He was just hurt right now.

Potter was another thing. The boy had disappeared during the past few minutes, probably into the office, and he was sure that Harry right now was feeling the same way as Theodore felt. With the difference that Theodore knew him since three years now, that Theodore knew that he always had a reason for his actions and that Theodore knew that in the end it would work out, that in the end, he was right. Potter too knew him since three years, yes, but not this way. Potter knew only the sarcastic bastard that had made his life at Hogwarts a living hell and that never had given him a reason to trust him in the first place. Potter's trust in him was only a few days old now, fragile and easily broken. He would have a much harder time to convince Potter that he'd had his reasons to tell them, he knew.

Sighing he closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head against the wall behind him, his fingers playing with Theodore's hair and he could feel the boy relaxing against him further.

"Well, Mr. Nott, as much as it pleases me to simply sit here and do nothing, there is another student that right now feels betrayed by me and needs to be comforted." He said after a few more minutes. "Are you amenable with me leaving in search for Mr. Potter?"

Upon the sleepy nod from Theodore he got up. "Try to sleep for an hour or two, Theodore, it will make you feel better afterwards." He said, leaving after watching his student laying down on his mattress.

He went into his office, and – just as he had thought – found Potter there, sitting in a corner on the floor. He was however not crying as he had thought he would and slowly he walked over and turned the chair behind his desk so he would face the boy and sat down. Potter didn't look up at him, just had his knees drawn to his chest, as had Theodore done earlier, and stared ahead of him, his face pale and thin, drawn and tired. So Snape didn't say anything either, just sat there, watching the teen. He knew that Potter had noticed his presence, knew he was there. And he knew that Potter – sooner or later – would address him, would blame him.

Well, he only had to wait a few minutes.

"I hate you!" Potter finally said, his voice low, barely above a whisper, but his words stinging nevertheless. A few days ago he would not have cared, but now? Now he had seen a different side of Potter, one he actually could understand. And now Potter had proven to be a teenager he could depend on, that acted reasonably in a dire situation, a teenager that actually had become to be – some kind of … important to him, whatever reason for this had happened.

So yes – right now Potter's words stung, if he liked it to admit or not.

"I know." He simply answered.

"I trusted you!" Potter said, the same words Theodore had used earlier, still not looking at him, but staring angrily ahead of him, his words an accusation in themselves.

"I know." Snape again simply answered.

"You … you … you have … you have _hurt_ me …" Potter continued to blame him, his voice however not that angry anymore but rather helpless, scared, lost and unsure. Hurt. Not yet really ready to admit that he, Snape, had been able to actually hurt him, to hurt his feelings, maybe because he then would have had to admit towards himself that the Potions Master had become – some kind of – important to him, too.

"I know." Snape again said, with a sad sigh this time, but there was nothing else he could say, because the boy simply was right.

"You betrayed me!"

"Yes, I have." He answered, not denying the teenager's accusation.

"Why?" The boy finally asked, finally gave him the chance to explain and he got up and approached the fourteen year old, knelt down in front of him and extended his hand, placed his fingers underneath Potter's chin and gently lifted his head so the boy had to look at him. He gazed into those green eyes that showed the hurt the boy felt.

"Because they have to know so you can go to sleep without fear, so you do not have to avoid sleep in order to hide your nightmares and because it will help them to understand." He said. "I do know that you feel betrayed by me. And I do know that you feel hurt by me and I will accept this. But believe me, I did not do this to hurt you, I did not do this without a reason, because only if they do understand we all can work together. And I am sure if you think about it with a clear mind, then you too will understand. You are far too intelligent to not understand it with some time given."

Potter's eyes shot up to gaze at Snape's own dark orbs and he could see that the child was, without a doubt, more than shocked by the praise. The pure bliss that flashed through those emerald orbs nearly made him hitch a breath, nearly made his chest clench painfully for a moment, but he kept his gaze at the boy's steadily. This joy in the teen's eyes however lasted for only a second or two before the usual misery took over again and surprisingly, Snape wished it had stayed there longer. He actually noticed that he gained more pleasure from this look of happiness than from the hurt looks one of his cutting remarks would cause and he sighed.

"Come here, you foolish child!" He growled, sitting beside the boy and simply pulling the smaller body into his arms, ignoring the startled flinch the teenager gave away and keeping a strong grip at the thin shoulders until the tense body relaxed slightly when he ran his hand up and down the boy's back.

"I am sure you will understand, Harry." He said. "I promised you to take care of you and I will do so. But I need your trust for this, child."

A small sob finally escaped the teen's throat and he could feel the boy's fingers gripping the hem of his shirt in a desperate way to grip anything to keep himself from drowning.

"But I don't understand." Potter finally sobbed. "You hate me. I just don't understand."

"I do not hate you, Harry." Snape sighed, leaning his head against the wall behind him. "I never really _hated _you. I disliked the fact that you were the golden boy that got away with everything, a spoilt brat that had wrapped everyone around his fingers and I only wanted to show you that it wouldn't work with me. But I never actually hated you. And now knowing that …" He trailed of, sighing.

"But I still don't understand." Potter allowed himself to hide his face into the fabric of his shirt and Snape allowed Potter doing so. "You are _supposed _to hate me! You are _supposed_ to hurt me! And you are _supposed_ to not care!"

"That might have been the picture I have displayed towards you in the past, towards everyone in the past." He said, knowing how right the boy was. Potter really had no reason to actually trust him the way he already did, as tentative and as fragile as this trust might be. "And aside from you and your fellow students out there no one will ever know that I indeed care about my students. But I _do_ care. I ever have and I ever will. You on the other hand too have shown me a complete different side of yourself, Harry, what gave me reason to show this care a bit more than I did up to now."

"But you're not _supposed_ to." The boy sobbed and Snape knew that the teenager simply wasn't able to adjust to the sudden change in the situation. Potter would need time to get used to this sudden trust he felt and the care he suddenly received. "I don't understand. You're _not supposed_ to care. So why?"

"Maybe because I do not care what I am supposed to do or not to do, Harry." Snape finally said, running one hand through the unruly mop of black hair. "I know that you don't understand yet, that you will need time. But I promised you that I would take care of you, that you won't go back to your relatives, and I never broke a promise. You simply will have to accept that little fact. And now try to sleep a bit, you insufferable brat. You will feel better afterwards."

He got to his feet and pulled the teenager with him before he led him back towards the classroom, towards the mattress that was the boy's, and where he pushed him down until the teenager lay flat. He threw the blanket over the small form, casting a quick glance towards Theodore, Draco, and then over the other students that watched him, again wondering how long the boy would make it. He watched him for a few minutes more until sleep had claimed the teen and then he left the mattress and went back to his desk. Theodore and Harry both were sleeping, resting from their emotional stress. They would be fine in the end, he promised.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_DWN - or Daily Wireless News  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	8. DWN - or Daily Wireless News

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He got to his feet and pulled the teenager with him before he led him back towards the classroom, towards the mattress that was the boy's, and where he pushed him down until the teenager lay flat. He threw the blanket over the small form, casting a quick glance towards Theodore, Draco, and then over the other students that watched him curiously, again wondering how long the boy would make it. He watched him for a few minutes more until sleep had claimed the teen and then he left the mattress and went back to his desk. Theodore and Harry both were sleeping, resting from their emotional stress. They would be fine in the end, he promised._

**Chapter eight**

**Day four – Thursday, fifth of September**

**DWN - or Daily Wireless News **

Well, the moment had come and there was no cataneo root left. So he had – well, in lack of a better word – _brewed_ a kind of – again in lack of a better word – _soup_ with some other plants and roots he held down here and he would be able to do so for at least tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Maybe even until Sunday. After that – it would get downhill and he would have to use more dangerous ingredients.

But well, he was a Potions Master, wasn't he? He would manage. Somehow – one way or another, he would manage.

He had fixed a few parchments to the blackboard earlier, plans for some duties, one list for kitchen duties, one for classroom duties, and one for bathroom duties. There wasn't much to do, really. It only was to wash up the bowls they used for their – _soup_. Again he snorted at the term – to keep the classroom tidy, what wasn't much of a task as there wasn't much they had brought down here anyway and to keep the bathroom clean. And he did not intend to force them to overtake a task. They could enlist themselves into the plans to earn points if they so wished, but he would not force them.

It was rather something he gave them to keep themselves occupied, nothing more. But he already noticed that the list for tidying up the classroom was more interesting for them than kitchen or bathroom duties. Well, it had to be expected and he simply would do it himself later while the brats were sleeping.

What had been a surprise had been Potter – _Harry_, he corrected himself mentally – enlisting his name into the plan for kitchen duties. He guessed that the boy would be used to such tasks after living with the Dursleys and he growled darkly at the reminder of what those monsters had done to the boy.

Honestly, he himself knew best how much he had loathed that boy. But not even _he_ would have mistreated a child, any child, in such a way. And honestly, recent events simply made it impossible to do so anymore, to loath that boy anymore.

Not only had that boy acted more reasonable than even some of his Slytherins, considering Crabbe's actions yesterday, asking a fellow student for food they all needed right now, but the boy actually had tried to be of real help. And considering the fact of how unwell he was, it was just the more a reason for him to let loose of his loathing and seeing reason for himself. The boy had done his best in a worst situation and under worst conditions – just as he maybe always had. If the boy had come back to Hogwarts in such a condition this year, then he surely had come back in such a condition last year too, and probably each year before. So, the boy had been unwell and nevertheless he had done his best – and successfully so.

And that the boy _had_ been unwell, still _was_ unwell, that much was sure.

Again he snorted while he cast a gaze into the direction of the kitchen Harry and Theodore right now were in.

Harry might have been used to pain, hunger, tiredness and exhaustion, to fear and feeling out of control due to his life with the Dursleys, but that didn't mean that he did not feel the effects nevertheless. He felt the effects as much as every one of the other children. And he himself, he had to admit. But Harry did feel them even more as he was already afflicted by earlier beatings and starvation he had suffered from during the holidays.

Running his hand over his face Snape sighed. No, there really was no reason for him to still loath that boy. He was not that spoiled prince that he always had accused him of being. He was not more selfish than any of his Slytherins.

Again he snorted. That was an understatement.

The boy wasn't selfish at all and right now in this very situation they were in, he was about to learn that Potter would give the shirt of his back if necessary – or the very last cataneo root for that matter. The boy rather tried to please than to annoy and he just never had seen it this way, had been annoyed by the boy's antics.

Well, he would allow the boy to brew the first batch of nutrient potion.

The Gryffindor was right after all in what he had said to Weasley yesterday morning – learning would help to distract them. So he simply would allow them to brew potions.

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_'… istry of magic has decided that this special department will be established until October the first. Many witches and wizards already have expressed their anger at the minister's decision but Cornelius Fudge refused to retreat from his choice of the head of this new department. According to the minister, Clark Henson will be the best man for this job, never mind what the rest of the wizarding world thinks.'_

"What did he decide now?" Harry asked with a shaking of his head.

"Dunno." Theodore answered, shaking his head too and gazing at the wireless wizarding radio that stood on the sideboard, the drying cloth held loosely in his hands. "But I'm sure it is as spectacular as is everything else he came up with so far."

"And as dangerous." Harry huffed. "Really, and people say that _Hagrid _is dangerous."

"You have a point, Potter." Theodore too huffed, but then he grew serious. "Harry, I mean. If you don't mind."

"I don't." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "As long as you don't mind me using Theodore instead of Nott."

"Say Theo." The other boy shrugged too. "That's what Draco and Blaise call me."

"'k …" Harry agreed, turning his face back towards the source of the news.

_'Hogsmead, England. _

_Five days after the tragic incidents at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, which had led to the castle's shutdown of some parts of the dungeons, the seventeen students and one teacher, Severus Snape, Potions Master and head of Slytherin house of Hogwarts, are still missed. The fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins had been in the potions classroom the moment the attack had happened and since then headmaster Albus Dumbledore has been unable to find a way to undo the castle's wards.' _

Theodore and Harry exchanged a quick glance and both stopped in their work again, giving their attentions entirely to the news that rung out from the magical device on the counter.

_'We have no information as to how those seventeen children and one adult are doing or if they are still alive, as every way of communication is cut off of the wizarding world. The rumours that had swept throughout the wizarding world that they already might have died during the attack on September the second, due to a potions accident during class never have been proven correctly. In fact, Albus Dumbledore has informed us that Professor Snape has been talking to the picture of Marlow Venenatus only hours after the incident._

_Since then however Venenatus has not been able to settle back into his own frame that is guarding the Professor's quarters and has found refuge in a picture in the hospital wing instead, so we have no further word of what happened in the dungeon classroom since September the second._

_The castle had been attacked by Death Eaters in the morning hours of the first day of classes and one of the stray spells had – so the headmaster – intermixed with an exploding cauldron in the potions classroom, what had caused the castle to shut down this area in the first place._

_Each attempt to get the students out or food down into the dungeons has failed and already the rumours are spread throughout the wizarding world that they might be already starved to death. We hear Professor Doctor Zaid Arcata who is our guest today. Good afternoon, Professor Arcata.'_

_'Good afternoon, Mr. Allison.'_

_'What would you say, Professor, do those students have a chance of being alive? After four days of imprisonment in the dungeons without food?'_

_'If they have survived the accident in the first place, what is proven correctly as Professor Snape has been conversing with the picture of Venenatus, then they still will be alive. A human being can go without food for at least two weeks and more if water is available what – if I take Professor Dumbledore's words correctly – is the fact. And as they are locked in the potions classroom, their chances to survive even longer than those two weeks are even higher than if they were locked in any other classroom. Professor Snape will be able to brew at least nutrient potions. I however believe that there might be a few more edible things in a potions laboratory and thus the Professor might be able to keep them alive for longer than that.'_

_'So they won't die at all due to those nutrient potions?'_

_'Nutrient potions need a basis they can work with and even then they will keep a human being alive only that long. In other words, they of course will die eventually, but their chances to survive much longer are much higher than if they were imprisoned in – let me say in the transfiguration classroom for example. But nevertheless those potions will not keep them alive forever.'_

_'How will the imprisonment affect those students? And how will it affect Professor Snape?' _

_'Well, concerning Professor Snape, he will have to deal with seventeen students that are hungry, frightened and soon bodily and mentally exhausted. He however is not only an adult and a Potions Master, but he is a teacher and a head of a house no less. He is a professional and he will be able to deal with the panic attacks the students already might have fallen into. The students themselves, as I said, they will be hungry, frightened and exhausted. How frightened and exhausted, that surely will differ from student to student, depending on the level of their individual strength. Some might be more frightened than others and some might be more weak than others by now. It really is not possible to say. What I however can say is, that they all surely have had a really hard time up to now and it will get harder with each day they are locked down there.'_

_'What would you say will happen if they are not freed anytime soon?'_

_'Well, as I said, they will be able to survive for maybe two weeks more. But they of course will get weaker and weaker with each day. If Professor Snape is able to get them sleeping as much as possible, then he might be able to keep them relatively calm for some time more. But that too will surely change eventually and before they will be too weak to do much, there surely will be a lot of panic attacks to be dealt with. Not to mention the fact that some of the children might try to find something that would seem edible to them what – in a potions laboratory – might be however dangerous, poisonous and deadly. Otherwise, some of them surely will begin to fight each other and there is no way to say how far those fights will go. On the other hand it even might be possible that they come closer and form friendships where before had been the distance between the two houses. It really is not possible to say what will happen in such a situation.'_

_'You mentioned the potions laboratory, Professor, but they are locked in the potions classroom. Is it the same then?'_

_'No, it is not the same. As I am informed however, the potions laboratory is attached to the potions classroom as Hogwarts is a practical wizarding school and not only a theoretical. The students actually are brewing potions and thus they need a separate laboratory. What actually is fortunate in this case as safety regulations say that each potions laboratory needs at least a bathroom, a kitchen and a rest room attached to the laboratory in case of an emergency. And as it is a school laboratory, I guess there will be the Professor's office too, so they actually have a small – let us call it 'flat' down there.'_

_'So those missing children will be able to at least take a shower and have a relatively normal way of living, am I right?'_

_'Relatively spoken, yes. But we have to remember that those children are just that – children. And children need not only food and a shower or a bathroom where they can care for their needs. They need fresh air and sun. And being locked in a dungeon will only get them depressed and miserable. Not to mention the pain hunger will cause and the tiredness, the exhaustion and the fear they might suffer from. So no, I would not say that they have a relatively normal way of living right now.'_

_'I might have chosen my words wrongly a bit. Of course we all know how hard this might be for them, but I just wanted to know if they were able to use at least a bathroom to care for their needs.'_

_'That they are.'_

_'We have been informed by headmaster Dumbledore that right now they are not able to use magic down in the dungeons. So how do you think they will manage sleeping on the floor without beds? And staying warm without warming charms?'_

_'Well, magic that is drained does not stop at once. It stops slowly and we only can hope that they had been able to transform the desks or chairs from the classroom into beds before that had happened so they at least are able to sleep rather comfortably, even if it surely will be far away from being comfortable actually. Sleeping in such a situation might be very important to give not only the body but the mind as well some much needed rest, but at the same time it will be rather difficult. The children's minds will be occupied with worry and with thoughts about the situation, about their future. And of course there is the fact that they are old enough to know that maybe they actually might die. Then there will be the question as to who will be the first one to die and how they will react to it. They are young teenagers and they will think about such things.'_

_'Not a comforting thought, I guess.'_

_'No, surely not. Concerning the lack of warmth, well, this will be an added problem to them. Even if it is not winter yet, the dungeons will be rather cold, especially during the nights. But if they are freezing, then their bodies will work. Their muscles will tremble in order to get them warm. But that on the other hand will take energy away, energy their bodies would need to survive. So yes, they actually do have a problem with not being able to cast spells.'_

_'You mentioned that they might think of dying, Professor, and who of them might die first. With the list of the students we have, which of them would you say have the best chances to survive and who might be the first to die?'_

_'I really cannot and surely do not want to give such a predicament away. Not only because it is nearly impossible to say so, but because I do not want to crash any hopes some parents, siblings, friends or the students themselves might have.'_

_'The students themselves? Do you actually think of those seventeen students that are locked in the dungeon?'_

_'Yes, it actually might be possible that they have a way to hear this news and to predict anything would only crush their hopes and destroy their spirits.'_

_'That might be true and I apologize for my thoughtless words. We say thank you for your information Professor Arcata and go back to our regular program. We will however hear more of those tragic happenings at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, that have the entire wizarding world in a breathless grip and we say hold on to those seventeen students and Professor Snape. You are not forgotten and each academic institution is searching for a solution to safe you. This was Dung Allison with the newest reports of the tragedy of Hogwarts.'_

Again Harry and Theodore shared a surprised look, just as they had done a few times during the news report, but then they went back to their work. It wasn't much, really, eighteen bowls, a few glasses, spoons and the pot Snape had used, and the cooking utensils, but Snape had ordered them to work slowly and to take a rest whenever needed. And so they did, no one could say that they were not obedient students after all.

"This guy said two weeks." Theodore finally said, breaking the silence they had worked in for a few minutes. "But you have not eaten since ages, I guess. Have you?"

"No." Harry simply answered, ignoring the other boy for a few moments more. But then he turned and lowered his head to one side, his eyes on the Slytherin that wasn't a Slytherin anymore.

Theodore Nott had the same nightmares as he had. And Theodore looked as tired and as frightened as he was, and as battered up. So – maybe he had been through the same as he had been.

"It's crap." He finally said. "What this guy said, about two weeks. It's absolute crap."

"How so?" Theodore asked, clearing the bowels away into a shelf above the counter.

"Because one can go without food for much longer if water is available." Harry answered. "That and a slice of bread or a soup from time to time. So stop worrying, we will survive much longer."

"But you haven't eaten anything close to a meal since ages, I guess, the way you look like."

"That might be, but listen, Theo, I've lived with the Dursleys my entire life and each summer I have to go back there. So I do know. I've managed months without a real meal."

"But you won't manage as long as the rest of us, will you?" Theodore asked, looking aside. He had asked the question he had not wanted to ask. The smaller Gryffindor might come to the conclusion that he might be the first one to die. And this he did not wish. But he just worried. He worried since this report, since what this doctor professor or whatever he was had said. Potter might be Potter. And Potter might be a Gryffindor, or a former Gryffindor, whatever. But Potter was not that bad and they shared the abuse they both went through each summer.

And now they shared being imprisoned in the dungeons, too.

The other boy however gave a small laugh away.

"You forget that I'm used to." He said. "I won't die so soon, so stop worrying. I do believe what Professor Snape said earlier. We will make it out of this mess alive. Somehow."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Snape lifted his head from the book he was reading the moment Harry and Theodore entered the classroom and he watched them sitting at a desk together, still conversing with each other. A fact that actually made him feeling pleased.

Draco got up from his mattress and went over to the two, as did Longbottom. Neville! He mentally corrected himself. Both, Draco and Neville took a seat at the same table, Draco beside Harry and Neville beside Theodore.

He cast a quick glance over the other students, judging their reactions to this, but he found nothing that was cause to worry. Only Weasley – yes, try it as he might, he just couldn't bring himself to call the other boy by his given name in his mind yet – looked disappointed, as if he felt betrayed.

"Finished?" Draco asked while he leaned back in his chair until the furniture's front legs hang in the air.

"Yap." Theodore answered, grinning, and Snape lifted his eyebrow. The boy looked much more relaxed than he had done before he had accompanied Harry into the kitchen. "And you should see Harry dancing one day."

"Dancing?" Draco gave a snorting laugher. "You're not serious!"

Harry too smiled at that, but he gave a gentle shove at Theodore's shoulder.

"Telltale!" He accused, but still with a smile on his face.

"Well, it's true." Theodore said, laughing now. "You should have seen yourself."

"Why did you dance, Harry?" Longbottom – _Neville_, asked curiously.

"I didn't dance!" Harry defended himself. "We were listening to the radio and I only moved to the music, that's all. It surely wasn't dancing! But maybe next time Theo will do so."

"Sure!" The other boy laughed. "If you lead, Potter!"

"Believe me, Nott, you wouldn't like _that._"

"Probably not." Theodore admitted. "But listen, there was a professor on the radio who talked about the … what did he call it?"

"The _tragedy of Hogwarts_." Harry answered with another snort.

"Yes." Theodore huffed. "And this guy said that we could survive two weeks down here without food."

Draco and Neville both looked from Harry to Theodore and then at each other before they looked back at the other two.

"But … but four days are already over." Neville quietly said. "So we have only …"

"Listen, Neville." Potter said. "We won't die in a week! Professor Snape said so and we should trust him. _I_ do trust him!"

"But Professor Snape won't be able to keep us alive forever." Neville quietly said, so quietly that he, Snape, nearly missed it.

Well, maybe it was time to interfere, and he started to rise from his chair. Damn that idiots from the Daily Wireless News! How could they give such a predicament away on radio if the children that were in that very situation just _might _be able to hear it? Did they have no sense at all? He actually was having trouble to keep his seething anger under control.

"Maybe he won't." Theodore said. "But Harry is right, Longbottom. We should trust Professor Snape. He will find a solution. Either a way out of here or to get something to eat down here. So stop worrying."

"Exactly." Potter smiled, ripping parchments into small pieces. "Just write numbers on those pieces so we can play a game of seven lost."

"Alright." Draco said, taking Harry's book bag and searching for ink and quill and Theodore followed suit, taking another parchment and ripping it in into half.

Snape sat back down with a sigh of relief. Again Potter – _Harry_, damn! – had proven to be able to distract the other children by simply … furrowing his brows he tried to remember what in Merlin's name _'seven lost'_ was.

"Ok, and what exactly is _'seven lost'_?" Draco asked.

"Dunno." The smaller of the four shrugged his shoulders.

"Uhm … Potter …" Draco shook his head. "So what exactly do I have to write on those cards?"

"Those are no cards, Malf- … Draco." Neville said. "Those are parchments."

"Well, just use the numbers from exploding snap, Malf-Draco, I guess that will do." Harry smirked and Draco shook his head, sighing in played exasperation, while Neville looked from the black-haired boy to the blond and back to the black-haired, not grasping the funny part in it.

"However, Pot-Harry." Draco smirked, causing Theodore and Harry to start laughing while Neville still blinked in confusion at them. "Next time you have kitchen duty – what will be tomorrow if I read the plan correctly, then I will accompany you. It seems to be rather funny."

"You can read, Draco?" Blaise asked, coming over to them, attracted by their laugher.

"Of course, Zab-Blaise." Draco still laughed. "Or how do you think I always managed to cheat by copying from you during tests?"

"Idiot!" Blaise shook his head and sat at the table too. "You're not even near me, in classes, Draco. Sorry, _Malf-Draco_, I meant. What are you playing though?"

"Seven lost." Harry answered, still grinning. "Whatever it is."

"Hey, it is _you _who made the suggestion." Neville shoved the other Gryffindor.

"So?" Harry asked, looking with an innocent blink at the other boy.

"Do you even know how it is played?"

"Seeing that I've invented the game just a minute ago – no, not yet." Harry answered, causing the other boys to snicker too and luring more of the Slytherins and Granger over to them. "But I guess we'll find out eventually how it's played."

"Well then – deal out the cards."

The smaller Gryffindor didn't even ask who would play but dealt out their – well _'cards'_ – to everyone present at the table and again Snape actually was pleased with the teen's behaviour. He included all of them, without questions and without hesitation.

"Uhm, seven cards, do you think it will be enough?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed.

"Guess." Blaze answered. "You called it _'seven lost'_ so I guess seven cards will fit."

"What with the rest of the cards?" Neville asked.

"How many do you have anyway?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, we got eight parchments into eight pieces each, so we have sixty-four cards now." Theodore answered.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, placed the remaining of their _'cards'_ – that wasn't much really – at the middle of the table. He turned one and then played one of those he held in his hand.

"And now?" Draco asked, looking curiously at the Gryffindor.

Harry blinked in concentration at the open card that lay on the table. A thing that actually caused Snape to hide the grin that threatened to creep upon his face, that particular boy and a look of concentration, something he had thought would not be possible.

"Well …" The teen slowly said. "It's a five. So Neville has to play a six or a four."

Neville nodded and then placed a card atop Harry's.

"Uhm …" Blaise made. "So I guess I will have to play a seven or a five."

"I guess so." Harry answered. "But if you play a seven, then you will have to take the entire pack of cards that is already played out except for the one you played."

"Hey! That's not fair!" Blaise whined. "You just made it up and I don't have a five."

"Of course I've made it up." Harry grinned at him and with an exaggerating sigh, as if he was about to die, the other boy played out his seven and took the cards Neville and Harry already had played, including the one that Harry had turned over in the first place.

"What's with the other cards?" Theodore wanted to know.

Again Harry furrowed his brows for a moment before answering.

"Guess you take a card from there if you can't play one." He then said.

"So I could have taken one instead of playing the seven!" Blaise called out. "I wouldn't have had to take yours and Neville's then."

"No." Harry said. "If you have to play any card or a seven and you don't have the other card but a seven, then you have to play the seven. There wouldn't be fun in it otherwise."

It went on, the game, and Snape watched them, actually wondering if it was Potter's skills in distracting them or if it was the carelessness of youth in general that caused them to forget, to laugh, to joke and to behave as if nothing were amiss, as if they were not imprisoned in the dungeons classroom without food since four days now.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was a few hours later when all the students slept and Snape looked over at Harry who was bent over another piece of parchment, scribbling on it and for a moment the Potions Master grimaced at the thought of the messy writing the boy always did his essays he handed in with – barely readable.

He had handed the dreamless sleep potion Harry and Theodore could use tonight over to both of them and Theodore soon after had fallen asleep, but Harry still was awake. The vial with the dreamless sleep still standing on the table in front of him and he wondered what the boy was doing. Surely he wasn't working on the potions essay he had given them earlier in the week, on Monday, shortly before all of this had started. Aside from Theodore during his first night no one had done this essay.

Slowly and quietly he got up from his desk and went over to the teenager.

"Harry?" He asked, quietly, but audible enough so the messy head snapped up to look at him and Snape took another step closer. "Are you not able to sleep? I wondered what you are doing still awake."

Harry shook his head, his heart beating slightly faster at the shock the Potions Master had given him. The man stood beside him, dark and imposing as always, but even now he could see some of the harsh lines in the man's face soften slightly.

"I'm sorry." He replied. "I thought you were asleep too."

"Clearly not." Snape growled, his left hand coming to rest on the boy's shoulder. "I do not tend to falling asleep on my desk. Why are you not asleep, Harry? You do need as much rest as possible."

The boy bit his lower lip nervously and for a moment Snape was tempted to pull it out from between the Gryffindor's teeth. But then the teen sighed and released it, placed the quill atop the parchment that lay on the table.

"I don't know." He then said quietly. "Maybe I was just too confused to, had a few things to think through. I just couldn't settle."

Severus gave away a soft chuckle, startling the teenager in the act.

"A recent development, Mr. Potter. You used to be unable to think properly in the past." He said.

"You … you laughed!" The boy gasped at him before he realized what he had blurted out and blushed a red that would make Ronald Weasley's hair jealous.

"Contrary to popular believe I am a living human being and that for I am able to produce such a thing." Snape lifted his eyebrow, rather confused by himself. Again he had insulted the boy, probably out of habit, and surely in a much gentler way than he normally did, in a nearly teasing, joking way, but he had done so nevertheless. Harry however had not taken it as an insult as it seemed.

"May I take a seat?" He then asked, apparently startling the teen again with his question as the boy first blinked at him and then quickly nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"What exactly are you working at?" Snape then asked, not understanding why he bothered in the first place. Neither was he a conversational type in the first place, nor had he ever sought out conversations with the students in general. "I do not believe that this might be the essay I gave you earlier in the week. Aside from Theodore no one has done this assignment yet. They all seem to be under the impression that I might forget about it due to the strange circumstances we are in at the present time."

"Uhm … well …" The boy made, blushing again. "Actually, I have done it already. As has Hermione."

"I should have known that Miss Granger would not miss working on this essay." Snape nodded, taking in the tense shoulders, the tense face and the fingers that were held stiffly. "I however am surprised that you too have done the assignment yet. May I have a look?"

Did the boy feel that unwell in his presence? He thought back to a few minutes earlier while Harry nodded at him and then bent over to retrieve the essay from his book bag. No. the boy had been tense before, while scribbling at the parchment and again he wondered what it was Harry had been working on.

The teen handed the parchment with the essay over to him and Snape took it, read it through, while Harry watched him nervously, his lower lip between his teeth again.

After a few minutes Snape looked up and lifting his eyebrow he reached over and this time actually pulled the teen's lower lip from between his teeth.

"I think your body has been damaged enough, Mr. Potter, so you do not have to add injury to it yourself." He said. "I cannot fail noticing however, that this essay is beyond what you normally are handing in, Harry. It seems you actually have given the task some consideration this time."

"I did." The boy said quietly, blushing again and looking aside, but nevertheless Snape had been able to see a glimpse of the happy gleam in the green eyes.

"You might be careful, Mr. Potter." He couldn't help teasing, his voice a deep and low threat and his eyebrow sarcastically lifted. "I might take this work as a new standard when it comes to your essays in future time."

The teen looked over at him with a small grin on his face and his eyes seemed to say 'try me' for a moment, but the boy didn't answer to that.

"What are you working at though?" He then asked, nodding at the parchment that still lay in front of the boy.

"Uhm … well …" Harry made and Snape had the impression that he didn't really want to tell him. But then, with a small sigh, the teen slumped his shoulders and the tension was released by resigned weakness. "I'm just writing down a few thoughts."

"And you are worried about the near future." Snape stated, lowering his head to one side while watching the child in front of him close. "Or why are you so afraid of telling me about this work of yours?"

"Actually, no." The teen answered. "Well, yes. I _am_ worried, I would be stupid if I weren't. But I do believe what I said earlier. I _do_ trust you. And besides, well, I guess death wouldn't be that much of a problem. Everyone has to die one day and Professor Dumbledore said that death only is a step into the next adventure, or something like that."

"So?" Snape asked, lifting his eyebrow.

"Well … none of the others do _that_." Harry said quietly, pointing at the parchment in front of him. "I mean … well … getting sentimental and such crap …"

"I see." Snape still fixed him with his harsh black eyes that somehow seemed not so harsh anymore than they had been in the past. "And you think a boy your age should not do such a thing as – writing down some thoughts."

"Well, Hermione surely would if she weren't afraid of thinking about what might happen. And the other girls probably too. They are girls after all."

"What do you think, Harry, how so many male authors managed to write great novels if they wouldn't – get sentimental – as you so eloquently put it, from time to time?" Snape asked, lifting his eyebrow. "To think about things and to write down one's thoughts is not something only girls do. Neither is it something dependant on age. Maybe it might calm you to know that I too started to write down not only the happenings during the past days but my thoughts too, Mr. Potter. So, may I make a suggestion?"

The green eyes were watching him for a few moments with apprehension before Harry nodded, slowly and unsurely.

"Continue with your work." Snape said. "If you so wish and if it does not upset you but helps you dealing with everything. But do so without fearing you would do something that is – _'wrong'_ or something that would not be _'appropriate'_ for a boy your age. Because it is perfectly appropriate what you are doing."

The teen nodded at him with a confused and thoughtful expression on his face, clearly still not used to this new Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry and he knew that the boy had every reason to be confused. He never had given Harry any reason to trust him as much as he already did. He never had given him a reason to actually try and do as he expected of the student and he never had given him a reason to act reasonably and respectful towards him.

This would change, Snape promised himself. He had promised he would care for the child, and he would do so. He knew that the teen would need time to get used to it, but he would care for the boy. He had failed him often enough.

He had failed him during his first year when he had come to Hogwarts – and right now Snape again remembered the tiny, scrawny and bruised first year standing in front of the head table and waiting to be sorted, by far the smallest of the children. He remembered the boy being at least a head smaller than the other first years. He remembered Theodore standing not far away, tired and bruised as well. He mentally had seen the other child in his house already, had seen the abuse that had been visible in Theodore's bruises. But he had not seen it with Harry.

And he had failed Harry in second year, the moment he had heard him talking parseltongue. He should have acted then, he should have taken the small Gryffindor aside and he should have talked to him. But he hadn't.

And he had failed him in third year again. He should have seen the signs in third year at the latest. They had been there even clearer back then. The boy had been a walking skeleton after the summer holidays, with dark circles underneath his eyes in a pale face and with hands that were bruised, covered with cuts and burns. He had seen the boy's hands during potions of course, but he never had reacted.

Not to mention that Harry had been the one who had hexed him in the shrieking shack. And he would have had the best excuse to talk to the boy then. To make him seeing some sense. But again he hadn't.

So yes, he had failed one of his students. And never mind which house Harry was in, he – Snape – was a teacher at Hogwarts. And that for, the boy was one of his students. He had some responsibility over them, over all of them, Harry included.

"I however would appreciate it, if you took your rest soon, Mr. Potter." He said sternly, sharp black eyes locking into tired green ones. "You will be able to work on this tomorrow, but right now I expect you to at least rest if you cannot sleep. Your body needs rest as well as your mind and you yourself. It is important for your survival and I am sure you do already know this by yourself."

"Yes, sir." The boy answered obediently. "I just will finish this sentence."

Snape nodded curtly and then left the teen, went back to his own desk. He himself would finish the page he was reading, and then he would try to sleep too. The next days would be strenuous enough, he guessed – if they were not rescued by then.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_brewing a potion  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	9. brewing a potion

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"Yes, sir." The boy answered obediently. "I just will finish this sentence."_

_Snape nodded curtly and then left the teen, went back to his own desk. He himself would finish the page he was reading, and then he would try to sleep too. The next days would be strenuous enough, he guessed – if they were not rescued by then._

**Chapter nine**

**Day five _–_ Friday, sixth of September**

**Brewing a potion**

Albus was sitting at the head table in the great hall, his eyes wandering over the students, but for once the twinkling of his eyes was gone. This was the fifth day now, since Severus, Harry and the other fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were missing, locked away in the dungeons. The fifth day and still they had no word from them.

He of course had tried to send the house elves down into the dungeons again, and he of course had tried to send Venenatus down into his own frame in the dungeons. He had tried to make portkeys, had tried to send food down by a delivering charm and he had tried the floo. He had even asked for help from the ministry, had tried to even get a time-tuner from the ministry.

Of course he had known that they wouldn't allow _that_, but he'd just _had_ to try.

Minerva, sitting beside him, was pale and her face looked drawn, tired and hopeless. Half of the students down there were from her house. Of course all the remaining teachers were rather miserable these days, but Minerva, being the head of some of those missing students, she was not herself these days.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was Friday morning and normally they would have potions. Well, they already were in the potions classroom. So – why not, Snape thought and sighed. Potter had wanted them to brew, maybe to have a few more batches of the nutrient potions, maybe just to distract them. The boy was good at such games of aversions, he had noticed the past few days. And never mind their history, nor his opinion of the boy in general, he actually appreciated it. Not to mention the fact that his point of view concerning Harry Potter _had _changed immensely.

But could he really risk them brewing this potion?

The ingredients they had were limited. If they made mistakes, what they surely would do, then it was a waste of said ingredients and he surely couldn't afford this. But on the other hand he also knew that they had to do something, that they had to take action in their survival and that they … well, Potter was right in one thing. They were here. And they needed the nutrient potion anyway. So they could brew it. He just would have to be extra careful. And maybe, if not all of them brewed, but only those who actually _wanted _to brew and the others made something else meanwhile - he would have time then to explain better, and to watch them more closely, to prevent mistakes.

Leaving his desk and turning towards the students he watched them for a moment thoughtfully.

"Those of you, who would like to brew a batch of nutrient potion, please follow me into the laboratory." He finally said, trying to judge from the faces who would do as he just had suggested. Potter definitely, the boy looked eager. Granger, Draco, Theodore and Blaise too. They all looked positive and were already leaving their mattresses.

"The rest of you, please try to think about the next lesson for this afternoon or tomorrow morning and what subject you would like to cover. We cannot practise spells or charms, but we can learn the theories behind it. I expect ideas and plans of you. Discuss it and take notes."

Well, Draco, Theodore, Blaise, Tracy, Potter, Granger, and to his surprise, Weasley, got up and followed him to the laboratory. For a moment he was tempted to refuse Potter and Weasley. Those two, just after Longbottom, were a guarantee that the classroom would be destroyed by an exploding cauldron. But then – well, it had been Potter's idea in the first place and he had promised the boy that he could brew the potion. And Weasley? Well, as strange as it might seem to him, if the boy showed interest – then be it. Maybe the boy had thought over a few things after his detention. There hadn't been an episode after all since then. So he just nodded at them and allowed them into his laboratory.

After all, he was glad that there _was_ interest in the first place.

That was something that many students didn't understand – Snape _did_ appreciate students that were genuinely interested in learning.

His temper was terribly short when it seemed the majority of his students only wanted to learn how to do pranks – like those blasted Weasley twins for example – or how to create the biggest possible explosion in his classroom – like Longbottom, just for another example.

But honestly, the twins at least wanted to succeed in potions, and if it only was to do their pranks, but they actually had a nick for the subject. They were talented and they were creative. Just a bit too daring, he thought. But well – at least they were responsible enough so their pranks were well thought trough and no one got really hurt by them.

He had however never turned away any child that actually asked for help. Never mind what subject in. So surely he wouldn't start doing so now. He would have to be more careful and he would have to be more attentive, but he would not turn them away.

He would have them brewing in pairs.

If he got Draco and Theodore together, and Blaise and Granger, then he would have to observe two cauldrons less. Those four would manage with little help.

The question however was – what would he do with Potter, Weasley and Tracy?

He didn't want to pair the two boys, he still didn't trust Weasley. And he didn't want to pair Weasley and Tracy either. Again because he still didn't trust Weasley.

He could place Potter and Tracy together, those two seemed to get along pretty well and Potter already had comforted the girl once. But that would leave Weasley alone and he … well, there was no other way. Potter and Weasley had been friends at one point, but it was clear that they were not now, even if Weasley behaved so far.

"Draco and Theodore, take a cauldron, Blaise and Granger, take another one, and Potter and Tracy, take a third one. Weasley, you will brew with me." He gave out his instructions and then went over to the ingredients cupboard to get what they would need while the children got the cauldrons. For a moment he caught Potter's eye and startled he narrowed his eyes at the hurt and disappointment the boy watched him with after he had announced that he would brew with Weasley and not with him. Did the boy want to spend time with him so desperately? Did the boy already … no, that wasn't possible, the boy surely had not started to form a bond with him, not after five days only.

After they all were settled he again turned to his small class. Seven students, a small NEWT class, only younger. They would do their last OWLS at the end of next year and they would have their NEWT classes at the beginning of sixth year. They just had entered their fourth year. They had just finished their third year nearly three month ago. They only were fourteen year old children, he suddenly realized. Teenagers. Children! They only were children still.

And yet – they probably would die rather sooner than later.

Gritting his teeth and rounding his desk to lean against the wooden furniture he forced those thoughts aside and concentrated on the task at hand.

"What would a potion such as a nutrient potion need?" He asked, looking into blank faces – aside from Granger. "Yes? Miss Granger?" He asked, again telling himself that he should not turn the girl away with her answer as he normally would do.

"I think something that contains sugar." The girl answered as soon as her name was out.

"Why would you think so?" He asked, already knowing what answer the girl would give next.

"Because sugar has the most calories and it pushes up the level of blood sugar in your system."

"What kind of sugar is ordinary sugar, Miss Granger?" He asked, satisfied with his predicament.

"Ordinary sugar – well … it's a disaccharide, sir."

"Correct, Miss Granger." Snape said, walking over to her and leaning with his hands onto the surface of her desk, watching her intently but calmly. "Your body however won't be able to absorb disaccharide. You would need monosaccharide for that. How does your body compensate this?" He asked, again knowing that the Gryffindor know-it-all … well, that the girl would know the answer.

He really should get used to calling them by respective names, by their given names, if possible.

"It splits up the disaccharide." Granger answered.

"That is correct. The body splits the disaccharide – what means said body has to work doing so. And if a body works, then it has to spend energy, in other words calories. It is pushed up before it falls down again. What is the opposite effect of what we want to achieve. If a person is in need of a nutrient potion, then you generally can say that said person is malnourished. So it would not be wise to get it working. What we need is a relatively stable situation and so we need monosaccharide, that will be what, Miss Granger?"

"Dextrose, fructose and lactose."

"Correct, Miss Granger." He calmly said. "We will leave the lactose out however, as there are some people suffering from lactose intolerance. And dDo not forget Honey, that too is a common monosaccharide."

"And you said you have honey here."

"We do, Miss Granger." Snape answered. "We will however not use it in this potion. We will need dextrose here. What else would we need in such a potion?" He asked again and Granger was just about to answer this question as well and he held up his hand to stop her.

"I do not wish to have a dialogue with you alone, Miss Granger, but a discussion with the entire class. You however gained yourself five points. Mr. Potter? Any ideas? What else would we need in such a potion?"

The boy blinked at him in pure shock, maybe at being asked about his ideas, maybe at being asked without a scathing remark, maybe at being called Mr. Potter in class instead of simply Potter.

"Uhm – Vitamins?" The boy then answered unsurely.

"That is correct, Mr. Potter. Which ones?"

"Uhm … well … retinol? And carotenoids?" Potter asked and Snape actually had to lift his eyebrow at him to hide his surprise. The boy actually was able to name the vitamins instead of saying just the letters of them? Wherefrom had he learned _that_? It wasn't covered in any potions books prior to sixth year. And it wasn't covered in any other books that were needed at Hogwarts. To have them learned now the boy actually would have had to read potions books or healing books that were far ahead of his year.

But then – well, the boy had known that sleep would help with being hungry. The boy already had known what hunger felt like before they had found themselves in this very situation.

The boy had been injured badly each summer, had been starved each summer. And the boy never had searched for help from any adult. Neither from Poppy, or the woman would have addressed the headmaster or him, nor from Minerva, Albus or – even him. It only was logical that he had tried to gain knowledge from books. Healing books and potions books that would help him with healing himself at the beginning of each school year when he was back at Hogwarts.

For a moment he had to force himself to keep his indifferent mask in place as he felt that his features went soft at those thoughts. The child never had trusted an adult to ask for help and instead had healed himself each year upon coming back to the wizarding world and Hogwarts from sever injuries he had sustained from beatings and malnourishment during the summer.

It was even worse as his own childhood had been and he remembered _that_ all too well, he knew what it meant and he knew what it felt like.

"That is correct, Mr. Potter. Which else?" He asked while he went over to the boy's desk and – just as he had done before while listening to Granger's explanations – leaned his hands on the desk. He however tried to look even more calmly at the child, knowing how easy he would startle the boy, even if only accidentally.

"Uhm … thiamine and biotin?" The Gryffindor answered slowly, watching him warily.

"Correct. Tell me one more, Mr. Potter."

"Uhm … well … maybe … ascorbic acid?"

"Was that a question or a statement, Mr. Potter?"

"Uhm … well … a statement … I guess."

The boy had gone pale with this question and his answer was nothing more than a quiet, hesitant whisper.

"A correct one, Mr. Potter." He said, nodding at the boy. "You named me five of them correctly and you will get five points for that. There are however a few more your body is in need of. We will use a prepared mix of vitamins, proteins and minerals in terms of dry chemical, together with the dextrose powder. You have done well, Mr. …" He paused for a moment, still gazing calmly into those frightened green eyes and he inclined his head. "You have done well, Harry." He then quietly said.

Severus had never been one for praise and affection, but he could see that it was doing wonders for the child in front of him. The boy nearly smiled, nearly, but his eyes definitely held a flicker of something he couldn't name for a moment and he quickly had to leave this desk before these bloody hopeful eyes would be his undoing. Again he wondered what Potter was doing to him.

"What else do we need? Mr. Malfoy?" He asked, turning to his godson. He knew that Draco was adept enough in potions so that he might know the answers.

"Water to dissolve the vitamins in."

"That is correct, Draco. Are all of them hydro soluble?"

"No, sir."

"Which one – of the from Mr. Potter before mentioned vitamins – is not hydro soluble?"

"I think, ascorbic acid."

"That is correct. What would we need for this one?"

"Fat, sir."

"What we would find in which form suitable for such a potion?"

Well, that question got the boy and he suppressed a smirk and lifted his eyebrow instead. He liked it to challenge his Slytherins and his godson especially.

"I don't know, sir." Draco answered after a moment.

"Then think of it, Draco, if you want to have the five points." He said, leaning closer. "Any guess would be welcomed."

He practically could see the wheels in the boy's head turning and turning and turning, but the face kept blank, no sign of recognition, of an idea.

"You may think aloud, Mr, Malfoy, if this will help you." He quietly said, waiting patiently.

"I just don't know it." Draco then said, shaking his head. "It can't be a simple fat like oil or butter." He then added upon his inquiring gaze.

"Why not, Draco?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow again.

"I don't know, it simply would be too easy." Draco shook his head and shrug one shoulder.

"So, what do you _think_?" He asked, leaning closer again.

"I think there might be some chemical reactions in the human body that helps to dissolve those vitamins. I don't think that you actually can dissolve them in simple fat."

"Your train of thought actually is a good one, Draco. Those vitamins however _are_ soluble in – simple oil. In other words, we need oil also." He cast one more look upon the blond Slytherin before he finally straightened himself and turned back to the class, his tone of voice business again. "That makes five points to you, Draco. Can we dissolve hydro soluble and fat soluble vitamins in one go?" He then asked, stopping in front of Weasley's desk. "Mr. Weasley?" He addresses the boy.

"I don't know." Said boy answered.

"Then think about it, Mr. Weasley, and let me know your thoughts - we might come to a solution."

The redhead looked at him startled, but then shrug his shoulders.

"I guess not." He then answered. "I guess you would need to dissolve them separately. But you said it was a mix of dry chemicals we would use and so we would have to split it up first. What would be stupid."

"You are right, Mr. Weasley." Snape said, nodding. "It would be stupid to split up an already prepared mix of all the vitamins, proteins and minerals. So what do you think, would we need to add this mix to? Water or oil?"

"I'm not sure." The blasted boy answered again, not ready to use his brain as it seemed. He was intelligent enough to recognize that it actually would be stupid to split an already prepared mix of ingredients, but he wasn't ready to think of how to use it then.

"What do you _think_, then?" He asked, leaning closer and piercing the youngest Weasley with his eyes.

"I don't know?" The boy answered, leaning back a bit. "Maybe water?"

"Why?" He asked, not backing away, not giving the boy room, but forcing him to use his brain with his closeness.

"Because normally powder is mixed in water?"

"A simple train of thoughts, and not always correct, but yes, you are right in this case." He finally said, letting out a deep breath and straightening up again. "We will need water. That will be five points to you, Mr. Weasley."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"How can you do that, Albus?" Minerva asked quietly.

"What Minerva?" The headmaster looked at the woman questioningly. He had been a little absent with his thoughts, as he often was lately, and he was not sure what exactly his deputy had asked him or told him earlier. And so he didn't know what exactly she was referring to right now.

"How can you be so calm, Albus?" Minerva repeated herself. She would have transfiguration right now with her fourth year Gryffindors and with the Slytherins and during those now free periods she felt particularly miserable. So she had followed Albus into his office after breakfast, just to have some company. "How can you be so calm, knowing that the children – and Severus too, soon might die?"

"I don't know, Minerva." Albus said, sighing heavily and running his hand over his forehead. He adjusted his glasses and sighed once more. "I can't answer you this question. I guess I just try to deal with it as good as possible."

"None of them … they are children, Albus. None of them deserve such a fate. If there were only a way to help them."

"I know, Minerva." Albus shook his head. "And Severus and Harry are the last who deserved such a fate. I do love those two deeply. I always hoped that I would be able to get them to get closer somehow. They are so much alike. But I fear … I fear now that never will happen."

His hands shook a bit while he poured some tea into two cups and reached one to the deputy headmistress. He even didn't feel the need anymore to indulge in his lemon drops. How could he eat lemon drops when there were seventeen children in his care, and when there was one of his teachers and friends trapped down in the dungeons since days? And being hungry? Maybe dying soon?

"Is there really no way, Albus?" Minerva asked desperately her voice sounding as miserably as he, Albus, felt himself. "Do you not have an emergency plan? Why are we not simply able to blast our way through those walls?"

"I have checked them." Albus answered. "Not only the doors are warded, Minerva. The entire area is hermetically sealed by those wards. There is nothing we can do."

"What if they really will die? Albus! They are down there since five days without food. They must be hungry and scared. And there is nothing we can do! That is … it is frustrating. It is a nightmare."

"I do understand you, Minerva." Albus sighed again. "I feel the same frustration as do you. But there really is nothing we can do."

"What will we do if they really will die, Albus?" Minerva asked, her voice nearly choked now. "What will we do if we finally find a way to undo those wards and find them all dead?"

"I refuse to think of this option, Minerva." Albus said, his face pale, paler than it had been a moment before and he felt a sense of dread, of foreboding. "I refuse to give up on them, I believe that we somehow will find a way to get them help before they die."

"But what if we do not?"

"I don't know, Minerva." The headmaster said. "I don't know."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"I am sure that all of you are tired." Snape said, knowing that – as tired and as hungry as they all were – he had demanded a lot of them. Not only with having them answered all those questions so they had to use their brains, but with having them brewing the basic of the nutrient potion as well. In their current situation it had not been an easy task and he knew it. But they all had done well, and they all had been distracted enough so they hopefully would be able to sleep for an hour or two without their usual worries. More and more of them had started having nightmares. Nightmares of being trapped, of being hungry and of dying.

"The base will have to rest until tomorrow morning and then we can add the dry chemicals before bottling the potion." He continued. "We cannot add the dry chemicals now because if keeping them heated until the base is settled the vitamins would be destroyed. Go back to the classroom and simply take a nap. If you cannot sleep, then read a book or just indulge in daydreaming. It will help you to rest and save strength."

The seven students he'd had in his laboratory silently nodded and tiredly left the room. He followed them and his gaze wandered through the classroom as soon as he entered.

Vincent, Gregory, Finnigan and Longbottom were sitting at a table, playing the _'game of cards'_ Potter had invented the day before. Seven lost, he had called the game, and they had played with peace in their minds until most of them had gone to bed.

At some point they had shoved two desks together on their long sides that now formed one large table at which everyone fit around and he had left those _'cards'_ on the table that had become the centre of the classroom – and their attention. It was as if this desk was something like a neutral meeting point between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. A place where truce ruled.

The two Slytherins and the two Gryffindors were playing there in peace, whispering to each other and he couldn't feel any animosity coming from them. They were quite at ease with each other and he was thankful for that.

The rest of the students were laying on the mattresses, sleeping.

"We're finished, sir." Vincent quietly whispered the moment he went over to them. "We've made a list. The rest was tired and lay down."

He nodded at them and took the parchment Gregory handed over to him, looking it over shortly and then placing it on his desk. He would take a nap too while most of them slept.

"I trust that the four of you won't do anything stupid?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted.

"No, sir." They answered, shaking their heads.

"I do trust you, that all of you are responsible enough to be left alone while I take the liberty of taking a nap myself. Please do wake me, Vincent, if I am not up by myself in an hour or the others wake up before that time."

"Yes, sir." The boy answered.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Poppy Pomfrey was brewing potions with a grim expression on her pale face.

She knew that she didn't as good a job as Severus would do, but she also knew that she had to do it. She not only had to restock the potions she needed in the hospital wing herself, but she also needed to brew potions in hopes that they would be able to reach Severus and the students that were trapped in the dungeons in time.

She would need nutrient potions then, special calming draughts that wouldn't harm them. They surely would be too weak and their bodies surely wouldn't be able to deal with the regular potions she had in her stocks. She needed weaker pain easing potions and she needed muscle relaxing potions.

She also had to plan what they would be able to eat as soon as they were free, and she had to make sure that she had enough free beds here in the infirmary. If only those children and Severus would be free in time. If only they would survive.

She'd had enough students over here during the past five days.

Friends of the missed students that worried over them, siblings that had a nervous breakdown every now and then, others that just didn't understand the situation, mostly the first years.

For those first years it really must be a scary thought to know that in the dungeons of this castle were seventeen students and a teacher locked up since days, most probably about to die. Most of the first years and some of the second years were startled and frightened. They already talked about seeing their ghosts and startled the third years with that.

But she knew that they didn't do so because they were playing a prank, or because they wanted to frighten the others, but simply because they believed it, because their over productive minds played tricks on them and they told everyone of the ghosts they had seen.

Especially the Weasley twins and Ginevra Weasley had her worried. Their brother, Ronald Weasley, was one of the students trapped in the dungeons and they worried deeply. The Weasley-twins had stopped their pranks and Ginevra Weasley barely was seen outside of her dormitory or classes.

She seemed unable to eat by herself and Minerva had brought her over to the hospital wing in need of a calming draught, a dreamless sleep potion or a nutrient potion more than once since Monday morning. She even considered keeping the girl here if it got worse with her, if she lost weight more, if she didn't sleep more soon. The child surely was worried beyond what she could take.

And then there was Harry.

The boy really had enough on his back, since years.

Aside from Albus she never had mentioned anything to anyone as she'd never had any proof and the boy always had denied it, but she was sure that the boy had been mistreated by his relatives, and badly so. The boy always was thinner when he came back from the summer holidays. And the scars she had seen on him … well, she had that particular boy here in the infirmary at least three times each term, the boy practically had a bed here with his name on it.

This time however, she had been about to mention something to Severus.

Albus might not have seen it the way she had. The headmaster always believed in the good of people. And he simply did not believe that Petunia Dursley nee Evans, the sister of his beloved student Lily Evans, would abuse her sister's son.

But she knew that Severus would see it.

Maybe he didn't see it right now. He hated that boy. He always had hated James Potter, and with a reason, she had to admit, and now he hated the son of his schooldays nemesis. But she also knew that if she told him about the scars and about how thin the boy always was after the holidays, then he would see it. Severus was someone, who would help, never mind how much he hated someone. He would lay his hate aside, at least until the child was healed and out of the abusive family.

He might return to his loathing later, maybe, but he would place reason and necessity over his feelings and he would help. And she also knew that Severus would find a way to get the boy to talking. To talk about the abuse. Severus always managed it with his Slytherins.

But now …

As she saw it, Harry would be the first one to die, followed by Theodore Nott.

Nott.

That boy had visited her on Sunday evening after the welcoming feast. Severus always sent him over after the holidays, just as he always sent over other children as well, and just as he sent over all the new first year Slytherins each year. And Theodore Nott had been worse this year than last year, but she had been able to at least heal his injuries.

And now that.

Sometimes she wondered why in Merlin's name she was doing this.

All the times Severus brought her an abused child her heart hurt, but at least she was able to do something. At least she was able to heal them, to help them, to even help Severus in getting them out of their abusive homes sometimes.

But this time?

This time she could do nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She knew that there were seventeen children and a friend of her that were suffering, but she could do nothing against it. She even knew _where _those seventeen children and Severus were, but she could not reach then, she could not help them. She could do nothing, she was absolutely helpless.

And right now she wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her office, to sit at her desk and to place her arms over the wooden surface of the table, to bury her head in them and to cry. But she knew that she couldn't afford that. They needed her. The students that were here trying to struggle through the castle's routine and classes, worried and frightened, as well as the students that were locked down in the dungeons, hungry, frightened, exhausted and … well, hopefully not about to die.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus lay down onto the sofa in the small rest room that was attached to his office, where Harry and Theodore had been sleeping two nights ago, and he closed his eyes immediately.

But sleep did not come.

What was it that kept his mind circling around Potter? Around Harry?

He knew it was not pity.

He had enough abused children in his house so that he knew they did not need pity, so that he knew they did not even _want _pity. They needed stability, they needed understanding, warmth, maybe even comfort, they needed a hand that guided them, someone who challenged them to go on, who told them _how_ to go on, and someone who just was there. But not pity.

Not to mention the little fact that he was not a person who even had the ability to pity someone. He had seen enough death and torture throughout his years as a Death Eater and then as a spy to Dumbledore that he had become a cold and harsh man that didn't pity anyone.

But if it wasn't pity – and he was sure it wasn't – what was it then? What exactly was it that made him feel angry whenever he laid his eyes on Harry? And not angry at the boy but angry at those muggles that were his relatives?

Well, yes. Of course he always felt anger, even fury, at those abused children's parents or guardians. But never to such a point where he himself actually _hurt_.

Anger and fury was _one _feeling. But the pain he felt inside his chest was another one, and he knew it. He just didn't understand what exactly it was.

Of course he knew that his point of view concerning this particular child had changed over the past few days. He had learned that he had been very wrong about him. That he neither was spoiled, nor selfish. That he even was abused, neglected and that he nevertheless cared deeply for others. That he wasn't arrogant but trying to retain his last remaining dignity.

But he also knew that there was more. It wasn't only the change of view.

He had not taken a potion that would make him wanting to be close to the child, he hadn't taken _any _potion. And the child itself hadn't woven a spell over him either as they simply were not able to do magic down here. And yet - he simply _wanted _to be close to the child.

He wasn't stupid, and he knew that sometimes such a situation could get people together, people that had hated each other before. But he also knew that he wasn't a person driven by his emotions either.

He normally kept his distance, never mind what exactly the situation was. And even if he never hesitated to comfort his Slytherins, to enfold his arms around them if needed, he always had kept his distance to them. He never had allowed them to come close enough so that their pain could hurt _him_ too. So – how had Harry managed this? Harry of all people?

Turning on the sofa in his rest room he again closed his eyes and tried to sleep, managing a few minutes later, falling into a deep slumber and dreaming of a fragile black-haired child with a thin and pale face looking at him with pleading green eyes. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what exactly the child was pleading for. He already had healed his injuries. And he already had given the child something to eat. And he had promised the child that he would not have to go back there, where it came from, but still the child's tired and pained green eyes were pleading with him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Filius Flitwick was sitting in his office. Well, if someone still could call it an office.

The desk, the seats, the sideboards, the floor – every part of the office was covered with open books, with parchments, with ancient scrolls and even with old letters.

He was the charms teacher since many, many years now, he had been Severus' teacher back then when the man had been a student at Hogwarts himself and he always had loved his job. But right now he cursed the fact that he hadn't continued in his own studies.

He had his charms mastery of course and he knew his expertise. He also was one of the best duelers that were there. And wards – they were his special subject. He loved them, he lived them and he breathed them.

He loved to install them, knowing that no one would be able to get past them, and he loved it to break them.

A lot of Death Eaters had been caught because he had been able to break through their wards, and surely no one could say that Death Eaters were not paranoid and had weak wards. They had the best, even better than those of the aurors, better than even Alastor Mad-Eye Constant Vigilance Moody.

But he had not been able to breach through those wards that had been installed by Hogwarts itself around the dungeon.

Besides of Albus, Minerva and Severus, he was one of the teachers that each year strengthened the castle's wards during the summer holidays, that kept them up to date and that ensured that the school's wards would keep the students safe during the upcoming school year. So he knew the kind of wards Hogwarts cast, he knew the wards the castle preferred. He even was able to undo them in a case of emergency.

Albus once had been badly injured and Severus had been in need to apparate him directly into the infirmary – what normally wasn't possible. No one could apparate from, to, or within Hogwarts. But there had been this emergency once and he had undone the castle's wards so Severus had been able to apparate with the headmaster directly to Poppy. He had recast the wards afterwards and no harm had been done.

But he wasn't able to undo _these_ wards.

None of the children down there was from his house, true, but they were only children and they had done nothing to deserve such a cruel fate like the one they right now were facing down there. He was not only a teacher here at Hogwarts, he was a head of a house himself and he knew the responsibility – not to mention that he simply liked children.

And Severus.

It had taken him some years to accept the fact that Severus was not a Death Eater anymore but a spy for Albus. And it had taken him a few more years to not only trust the dark Potions Master, but to understand him and to actually like him.

Of course he never would tell him, he wasn't suicidal after all. But he _did_ respect and like the always grumpy man, even if he always took points from his house and gave his students detention, even if his students called him unfair. He knew that Severus only wanted to keep the students safe, as did every teacher here.

Well, yes – apart from Quirrel and Lockhart, he had to admit, he still didn't know who of the two had been worse.

Long story short – He long ago had seen that Severus only wanted to help those children who needed help – and successfully so.

But now?

Tiredly he placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes before he forced himself upright again, took a vial of pepper up potion and downed it in one go.

The burning sensation of the potion itself that ran down his throat already was welcomed and the burning sensation the moment steam came out of his ears had him awake and let him breathing a sigh of relief. He would be able to work on those damn wards for another few hours.

He knew that he had to stop taking the pepper up potion, and soon, but he simply couldn't afford sleep right now, not while there were eighteen lives at risk.

He had to overcome those wards.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

An hour was over and Vincent was about to get up from his chair to wake his head of house when Neville looked at him and then placed his hand softly atop his arm, shaking his head.

"Let him sleep." The Gryffindor quietly said. "If he's as tired as we are, then he'll need his sleep and he hadn't slept much. He always goes to sleep after us and is awake before us. The first night he hadn't slept at all."

"You do know about whom you're speaking of, Longbottom, don't you?" Vincent asked and Neville nodded his head, managing a quick but scared look towards the door that led to the Potions Master's office.

"Of course." He said. "Or did you forget what my boggart turned into?"

Snickering quietly Gregory handed out the next round of cards.

"No." He said. "But in this case you should know that one better does not go against Professor Snape's orders. And he ordered to wake him in an hour. That means – now."

"He said so, because he felt the need to watch us so we wouldn't do something stupid." Neville said. "But if we behave, and if we keep an eye on the others when they wake up, then there is no need for Professor Snape to stay awake. We should let him sleep. Surely he's as tired as we are."

"You're right." Vincent said. "But he's the adult and we're the children. He always says that we don't have to solve everything, that we should trust and obey his orders as they have a reason. And he said to wake him in an hour."

"I know. And he probably is right." Neville shook his head and took the cards, sorted them on his hand. "But that isn't such a big deal. We're in no immediate danger. We are fourteen after all and we can look after ourselves for a while. We should let him sleep. He needs his rest just as do we."

"I do appreciate your gesture, Mr. Longbottom, but Mr. Crabbe is correct." Came the man's deep and velvet voice, startling him into freezing at the spot. "If I give you an order, then I expect you to obey – quickly and effectively. Because if I give you an order, then there might be a reason behind it, don't you think so?"

"Uhm … well … yes … sir." Neville answered, blushing as red as a tomato. "Sorry … sir …"

"Apology accepted." The Potions Master nodded at the Gryffindor. "Professor McGonagall might never have taught you such and I start to see _why _the Gryffindors are always heading into danger to safe other people, but it is not necessary. You are children only and you do not have to solve everything. There are enough adults around here to take over dangerous situations or situations that are simply over your head. So next time I simply expect you to obey, regardless of my own safety. As Mr. Crabbe said. I am the adult here, whereas you are the children. You simply will have to trust my judgment. I see that Mr. Finnigan left you in favor of taking a nap as well."

"He left a few minutes earlier, sir." Gregory said, sorting through his own cards too.

Snape simply nodded and then sat down into the chair beside Longbottom, taking the pieces of parchments Finnigan had left on the table and lifting his eyebrow he turned towards the Gryffindor when the boy looked at him shocked.

"I do hope that your facial muscles are still working as I do need you to explain this game of Potter's to me, Mr. Longbottom." He said with a smirk. It definitely felt good to startle students into a heart attack from time to time.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_dear Merlin and the Lord's will  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	10. dear Merlin and the Lord's will

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_Snape simply nodded and then sat down into the chair beside Longbottom, taking the pieces of parchments Finnigan had left on the table and lifting his eyebrow he turned towards the Gryffindor when the boy looked at him shocked._

_"I do hope that your facial muscles still are working as I do need you to explain this game of Potter's to me, Mr. Longbottom." He said with a smirk. It definitely felt good to startle students into a heart attack from time to time._

**Chapter ten  
**

**Day five – Friday, sixth of September**

**Dear Merlin and the Lord's will**

"Wait a moment, all three of you." Snape said, keeping Potter, Theodore and Draco from entering the kitchen and all three turned towards him. It was unnerving, having the Gryffindor boy standing between the two other boys. Neither Theodore nor Draco was overly large or heavy built, both boys were rather slender, but contrary to those two, Potter looked rather like a small child that was too skinny – as if a first year stood between the two fourth years.

"I understand that both of you, Harry and Theodore, have used the wireless yesterday." He said and both boys nodded at him. "I of course will not 't forbid you listening to the news as I _do_ know how important it is having some contact to the outside world. I however do _not_ want you taking it seriously what you hear there. I have listened to those reports of – _'the tragedy of Hogwarts'_ – last night myself to have a clue what is mentioned there, and I only can say, they do not know too much. They only guess and speculate and I do not want you believing their words about how long one can survive in our situation. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." All three boys answered, nodding their heads and they actually looked sincere.

"Good." He said. "And remember, it might not be too much work there, but I nevertheless want you to work slowly and to take a pause whenever you feel the need to. I do not really know _why_ all of you are so keen about the kitchen duty, but I do not want you to overstress yourselves."

Again all three boy's nodded and he lifted his eyebrow at them for a moment before he too nodded his head in answer to dismiss them, not sure if he should follow them or not.

Not only that he _really_ didn't understand _why_ they were so keen on it, but he too wondered how they had managed to get along so well to a point where they fought about kitchen duty with Potter. Not to mention his own advise. _'I don't want you to overstress yourselves.'_ Well, _that_ – definitely was no comment he would have said to any student a week ago.

But now, he meant it.

They had to keep their bodies as well as their minds as calm as possible to safe energy they needed to survive as long as possible. Well, the day had passed calmly, and he just wanted to keep it this way. The less stress they had, the better it was.

And honestly, the fact that they had taken a nap this afternoon had told him enough about their condition. Fourteen year old teenagers that by free will took a _'nap'_ – sleeping in the classroom on mats like pre-school children, that surely was _not_ normal and he took it as it was. They were going weak and easily exhausted.

The next step would be that he read them a children's story before they took their nap and that he would hand out cartons of milk while they listened to his story. He actually snorted at that thought. His next position after _that_ would be being a teacher in nursery school.

Well – he just was glad that no other crisis had taken place since Weasley's attack on Potter.

Potter – that boy was another matter and he had to admit – even if reluctantly only – that the boy would fit well into his house. He had misread the boy completely and he only hoped that it wasn't too late. He had promised Harry that he wouldn't have to go back, even if he would have to take the boy in himself, and honestly, after living with him down here since five days, it wasn't such a horrible thought anymore. He had learned that there was a complete other side to Potter than the one he always had seen and he actually was ready to accept that precise thought, of taking Potter in. He just wasn't sure if the boy trusted him enough to accept his offer.

Another matter was Theodore. He knew that Theodore was abused too and he knew that he had come back to Hogwarts this year in a much worse condition than the years before, even if it wasn't as bad as Harry's. However, he was glad that Harry got along with the other boy as well as he did, because …

Well, he wasn't sure because of _what_ precisely.

He surely didn't imagine taking both boy's into his home, to start a small family with those two boys. He wasn't a father. And he surely didn't imagine Harry and Theodore growing up as brothers, surely not. _That_ would go beyond anything. He would give Potter a home if necessary, if no other solution could be found, but surely the term _'family'_ was out of question for all of them.

No – he didn't imagine _that_!

And yet – a small part of him just _did_ imagine this particular situation, as foreign as it felt to him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"I don't care, Malfoy." Crabbe growled. "I don't care what you call it, but my son is locked in this dungeon too. And all I _do_ care about right now is my son. His life too is … he too is about to die. He too will be starved to death, and soon if no solution is found."

Goyle, standing beside Crabbe, nodded eagerly with his head, agreeing with his comrade's words. His son too was locked in the potions classroom and his only relief was that Snape was with them. He trusted Snape.

He knew that Snape didn't like him, that Snape took him for an idiot, but he didn't mind. He trusted Snape nevertheless, _if_ someone could get them out alive, then it was Snape.

"Just shut up, Crabbe!" Malfoy's words got him out of his thoughts and he looked at the blond. "My son is down there too." Malfoy hissed impatiently. "It simply didn't go as it had been planned and now we have to find a solution to get them out of there."

_'It didn't go as it had been planned' _– well, _that_ was the understatement of the year and honestly, he hadn't heard that sentence since a long time now, since the downfall of the Dark Lord, in fact.

And honestly, it _always_ had been Malfoy.

Of course Crabbe and he had been blamed for jobs that had gone wrong all the times, because they all thought that they were stupid and had messed up, but it always had been Malfoy's wrong planning and scheming, because the man always wanted too much. And honestly, overtaking the castle with a handful of Death Eaters – had been a stupid thought, even for him.

"I don't care about the Gryffindors, but if it means to get my son out of there, then, Merlin forbid, I will get them out too." Malfoy continued his rambling. "So just go and do as I told. I want free access to McNair's and Nott's libraries."

"You won't find anything in there, Malfoy." He said, joining into the conversation. "All their books are dark magic, and you can't use dark magic in the castle. Your own library is much larger than theirs and you have books of _all_ sorts."

"Just do as I say and get out of my eyes!" Malfoy screamed at them, and he retreated quickly, Crabbe close behind him. He knew, if Malfoy was in one of his tempers, then it was best to do as he ordered.

"Vence?" He heard Narcissa's low voice the moment they reached the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, followed by a low "Gordon?" and he turned, facing the lady of the house who hurried over to them with a pale face, paler than normally at least.

"Don't worry, Narcissa." He quietly answered her unspoken question. "Severus is with them and he will get them out alive. He will find a way."

"I know." She whispered. "I had my reasons as to _why_ I made Severus Draco's godfather and I _do_ trust him with my son's life. But even Severus is not almighty and Lucius is a fool, concentrating onto dark magic only. He won't success using dark magic at Hogwarts. Please, help to get our children out of there."

"I will, Narcissa." He whispered back, placing a calming hand at her arm. "_We_ will, I promise. Don't worry too much. Just prepare everything else we spoke about. And be careful of Lucius, you will be in serious trouble if he gets suspicious."

"I will be careful." She promised, barely keeping her calm facade. "Just do all you can."

"We will." He promised once more before nodding one last time at her and then leaving the manor.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Do you know how the wording _'dear Merlin'_ came to existence?" Potter asked, his face serious, and snickering Theodore shook his head while he, Draco, leaned against the counter, fighting against his own chuckles.

"It was during one of the greatest battles Merlin ever fought." Potter said, his voice so serious that both, Theodore and he himself couldn't help snickering again. "He was standing atop the hill, overlooking the fields of battle."

Draco heaved himself atop the counter, watching Theodore trying to wash the dishes and Potter – Harry, _damn _– standing in the middle of the kitchen, the towel around his shoulders like a cloak, playing Merlin. And Merlin! The smaller boy was thin enough so he actually _could _place the simple towel around his shoulders in the first place! It seemed to be a too small cloak, but it reminded at one.

"All the way to the North his sharp eyes penetrated the mists that covered the hills of Durham. To the East he could overlook the seas of Norwich where once, centuries ago, his ancestors fought their own battles."

Draco's snickers went into fits of laugher at the smaller boy's serious face and eye-squinting, of the big words, added to Theodore's laugher.

"To the West he could glimpse the white-crested waves thundering against the cliffs of the Isle of Man, and to the South he could observe the mighty warriors battling for the Isle of Wight."

"As if his eyes were _so_ good!" Draco blurted out, trying to catch his breath and holding his belly with laugher.

Potter just gazed at him piercingly, seriously, nearly accusingly, what made him laughing just the harder.

A soft _'thud'_ caused him to look over to Theodore and he could see the other boy had lost his footing and had landed on his knees, his palms on his thighs to keep his balance. Harry shot him an accusing look too before he continued.

"It was to the South Merlin had directed his gaze at, the moment King Arthur approached him and stood by the ancient wizard's side and suddenly Merlin's old and wrinkled face twisted with concern, misery and pain.

'What does have you worried, dear Merlin?' King Arthur asked the old wizard, his face now worried too. 'Do you sense ill foreboding? Are the forces of the evil bringing doom?'

'No, Milord.' Merlin gasped, his face still grimacing in pain and his hands clenched into fists. 'No, the evil forces are not prevailing.'

'Then what is it that ails you, dear Merlin?' The King asked, still worried.

Merlin however hissed out between clenched teeth: 'You are standing on my toes, Milord.'"

Draco curled up into a ball with laugher and he shook his head watching Theodore still sitting on the floor, holding his sides. Never mind what, he had to admit that Potter was funny. The joke itself had been not at all that good, but his serious gazes, his accusing stares at them, and his stern voice were just priceless.

"Hey … would … would you … would you just stop … I'm … I'm going … I'm going to pee." Theodore gasped while trying to somehow catch his breath with laugher, but he didn't really manage.

"Not here, please." Potter, _Harry_, seriously answered, looking wide-eyed at Theo and his, Draco's, laugher increased too at that innocent green eyes while he wondered how the other boy managed to stay so serious. "Imagine the mess, Theo. Just use the loo instead."

"Can … can't … just shut … shut up." Theo gasped and Potter looked back at him with a gaze that bordered on hurt before he turned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Ph …" He made. "I won't play with you anymore!"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Coming back to the classroom Theodore and Draco snickered and chuckled, while Potter had a serious face. He however could detect a twitch here and a twist there, while the green eyes sparkled with silent laugher and the Potions Master wondered what had been the cause for _that_. It wasn't that their situation was overly funny. He however had to admit that he liked this sparkle in the boy's normally so haunted eyes.

Draco was no one who easily laughed openly, but he openly chuckled now, while Theodore nearly had tears in his eyes with laugher he held back. And Potter? Never before had he seen the boy with eyes as bright with fun as right now. What in Merlin's name had they _been doing_ in that kitchen?

The other students looked up at them, their faces curious and somehow Theodore wasn't able to keep up his facade any longer and he burst out with laugher – Draco following his example and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy's.

Well, Potter kept his face straight, just the muscles around his mouth and eyes twitching again and he could see that the boy took a deep breath to keep himself from laughing too.

What in Merlin's name had they been _doing_? What kind of prank would he have to deal with now?

"What's up?" Longbottom asked, coming over, followed by Granger and Blaise.

"Nothing." Potter – Harry, answered seriously, his eyes innocent and his face still straight. "Why?"

"Those two are laughing their heads off, and you're looking as if you just had the fun of your life." Blaise said, looking from one to the other.

"_I_ don't know why they're laughing." Harry answered calmly, shrugging his shoulders and Snape wondered how the boy kept his face that straight. He would make a good spy, he had to admit, even if he never would want to see the boy on this particular path.

"Theo?" Blaise asked, turning to the other two who laughed just the harder at Harry's words. "Draco? What happened?"

"Potter happened!" Draco gasped, leaning with his right onto the desks that still stood in the middle of the room while his left pointed towards the black-haired teenager.

"Me?" Said boy asked innocently, his sparkling eyes growing large. "I didn't do anything!" He said.

Well, it didn't help Theodore who fell onto one of the mattresses, holding his midsection with laugher and Harry's next words didn't help the situation at all.

"I'm innocent!" The boy called out, his eyes still large and his face still seriously. Snape couldn't help snorting with disbelieve at those words, causing the boy to turn towards him, looking at him with the same innocent large eyes.

"Really, sir!"

Well, this – as it seemed – had been the last straw and Draco too went to the floor, leaning with his back against the leg of the desk, gasping for breath and with his shoulders shaking with silent laugher.

"Dear Merlin!" Snape groaned out and then turned, left the classroom, went into his office.

Silly children!

He didn't admit, not even to himself, that he'd just _had_ to turn so that the crowd of teenagers didn't see his lips curling into an amused smirk.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Theodore, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, come with me, please." He said upon returning to the classroom after he had calmed down and was sure that his face would be its serious self and not traitorously grinning, and he led them towards the laboratory and their cauldrons.

"Your potions are resting, and so you should _not_ stir them or touch them." He explained. "But you nevertheless should check them before leaving them alone during the night. The potions should be clear now, with a hint of silver, and it should smell of honey and peppermint."

Harry looked at him, his brows furrowed, and he looked as if he didn't understand – what surely was the fact as none of the ingredients contained peppermint in any way, form or shape. The others too looked curiously.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" He asked, coming over towards the boy.

"Uhm … well … sorry, sir, but … peppermint?" The teenager asked. "There is nothing in this potion that would contain peppermint."

"You are quite right, Mr. Potter." He said. "What is the only ingredient that has absolutely no use in a potion such as this?"

"The crushed echinus roots." Came the immediate answer that suggested that the brat already had wondered why this particular ingredient was in a nutrient potion. He just wasn't sure when exactly the boy had wondered about that - during his holidays while starving and needing information? Or during brewing the potion earlier?

"Correct, Harry." Snape said, leaning close, the boy's given name still foreign on his tongue, but he kept his gaze steadily at the teen in front of him. "I wonder however, _if_ you do know that this is the only useless ingredient in this potion, _why_ did you not ask for the reason of its presence earlier?"

"Well, I thought it would have one reason or another, sir." The teenage boy answered.

"But you didn't know _what_ reason." Snape lifted his eyebrow at the brat.

"No, sir." Came the answer and it sounded definitely apologetic.

"So, why did you not ask?" The Potions Master inquired.

"I didn't think of it." It was only a whisper, but - well, he was sure that the boy actually _had_ thought of asking, but that he simply had not dared to ask, and suddenly he understood. He had been so busy making the boy's potions lessons a hell throughout the past three years, that he never had stopped to really looking into the boy's work.

Harry always had handed in passable essays. His work with the knife too had been rather sure handed and acceptable – as had been the stirring and handling the heat when it came to brewing the potions themselves. What mostly had messed up the boy's potions had been ingredients that had not belonged into them and he suddenly wondered why.

This morning the boy had answered his questions correctly, hesitantly and frightened a bit, yes, but correctly. His potion too had come out correct up to now. And Potter had been able to name him the only useless ingredient in the potion. In other words, most likely, with his actions during the child's first potions classes, he had ensured that Harry had lost his interest in the subject and in asking questions, probably was simply too scared of him for doing so.

"If you now add two and two together, to what conclusion do you come then?" He asked calmly. He would have to remedy that. He would have to awake the boy's interest anew. And he would manage, he promised himself.

"Well, the echinus root itself doesn't smell like peppermint, nor should the potion." Harry slowly answered. "And so, I guess, that the only useless ingredient, the echinus root, is causing this effect while mixed to the other ingredients, sir. Whatever reason for."

"That is correct, Harry." Snape nodded satisfied. "That will be two points to you. The reason however is, that the echinus roots, if crushed and added to the potion after being heated and completed, are reacting to the vitamins that are in the dry chemicals. Why?"

"So it doesn't taste like old socks for a change?" Potter said before realizing _what_ he had said and his face turned beet red. "Uhm … well … sorry, sir … I mean …"

"_That_ – is the exact reason, Harry." Snape answered, holding up his hand to stop the brat from making a fool out of himself. If Potter was comfortable enough around him now to joke, then be it, and strangely – it actually meant something to him, even if he didn't really dare considering what exactly this something was.

"Nutrient potions are made for people suffering from serious eating disorders – what ever reasons for this disorder presented itself in the first place." He explained. "And considering that people with eating disorders have enough problems at hands, a potion that concerns nutrients and is taken regularly in order to keep those people alive, should not taste like – old socks, as Mr. Potter so eloquently had put it."

He turned towards Weasley's cauldron and gazed inside, intently, while breathing in the fumes and then he nodded, walking towards Miss Granger's cauldron.

"Why the smell of honey, Miss Granger, as no honey either is in the …"

A short hiss and a bright, blinding light accompanying a silent detonation caused him to abruptly stop mid-sentence and to wheel around, and two steps were all it took him to reach Potter who was already laying on the floor, curled up into a small ball, while at the same time he reached into the pocket of his robes and he took out a small vial.

He had _known_ this might happen, _damn_, but honestly, while just _checking_ the potion? He had thought it could happen during the brewing itself, but surely not while simply _checking_ the potion, and honestly, that had been the reason as to _why_ he had been reluctant to let the students brew this one in the first place. It was a potion easy to make, but if made a mistake, it could be deathly.

Uncorking the vial and kneeling down on one knee beside the boy Snape stretched out his hand and touched Harry's chin, turned his head and he actually had to force himself to keep his hands steady, cursing inwardly. His hands barely trembled. But seeing one of his students laying on the ground, curled up into a small ball and whimpering with pain, he actually remembered _why_ he had been so reluctant in the first place.

Forcing himself to keep a clear mind he forced the boy's mouth open and poured the potion down the teen's throat, ignoring the small sounds of protest and distress the boy made the moment the potion came in contact with his throat when he forced him to swallow the blue liquid and he waited for the lines around Potter's eyes and mouth to relax, but they only tightened and he frowned.

The potion should have helped immediately, but the teen that had to force air into his lungs more and more, had difficulty with this simple task of breathing.

"A pain reliever, Theodore." He ordered. "A healing potion and a calming draught."

Theodore, knowing what was needed and where to look for it, immediately reacted and Snape wondered why it always was Potter he had underneath his hands recently, while he tried – not without an edge of desperation leaking into his voice – to somehow calm said boy.

"Breathe slowly, Potter." He said, trying to sound as calm as possible. "The slower you breathe, the less it will hurt. I know that it is difficult, but you have to take slow breathes. _Oh, no,_ Potter! You _won't_!" He ordered the moment he realized that the boy started to panic. "You won't panic now! You just will take slow and calm breathes and you will be fine!"

He could hear the teenager wheezing as Potter was trying to breathe and he shifted his position so that he was able to lift the boy's upper body up a little to ease his distress.

The moment Theodore came back with the vials of potions he knew would help the boy in his arms, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hush now, Potter." He said, forcing the boy's mouth open, and ignoring the boy's struggles and distressed whimpers he forced the healing potion down the teen's throat, massaging the delicate throat and thus forced the boy to swallow.

"That's a potion for healing. I have one for the pain here too." He said, trying to sound reassuringly. "Just swallow it. I know it hurts, but you have to swallow."

Opening the first two buttons of the teen's shirt Snape focused once more on the boy, watching the slow and painfully irregular rising and falling of the thin chest, and he reassured himself that Lily's child – damn, that _his_ child – was still alive and would - the Lord willing – recover.

"_Oh, no_! You _won't_ Potter!" He again growled darkly the moment he noticed that the boy was about to fall unconscious. "You won't sleep now! I need to give you some more potions and you won't fall asleep before I say you can! You will have detention until the rest of your life if you fall asleep now!"

The moment he noticed that the boy had swallowed the healing potion completely, he uncorked the next vial and poured the pain reliever down the teen's throat, again massaging the delicate throat to force the boy to swallow the liquid, and again he waited for the wrinkles around the child's eyes and mouth to disappear, but they only lessened.

Well, it was better than nothing at least, and he repeated the same procedure with the calming draught and finally he himself reached a state of mind where he knew that he could deal with it. He knew, if the boy just stayed awake for a bit longer, then things would be going to be alright.

Unconsciously the older man reached out and very gently he touched Harry's face to get him to respond, to get his attention, and he began to softly run his hand through the soft raven hair, trying to comfort the child while he ignored the soft murmur of voices in the background.

"Potter!" He growled darkly, startling the boy that started to lose consciousness again. "What did I say about following my directions! I will not tolerate your disobedience!" He hated using that voice with the already sick boy, but he could tell that it worked and Potter was pulling himself together once more, forcing himself to stay awake.

"That's better, Potter!" He growled and he shifted the boy so that he was lying with his head in the middle of his, Snape's, chest, directly over his beating heart. The child still had his eyes closed and his palms pressed against them. Gently he took the small wrists and pulled them away from the boy's eyes while at the same time he placed his hand over the boy's eyes to shield them from the bright torchlight down here in the laboratory.

The next few minutes were rather tense. It was silent, no one talked and the only sounds they could hear were Harry's rattling breathes, the boy trying to stifle his painful sobs and Snape whispering to him reassuringly while he tried to make him drink a few sips of plain water.

Just when Potter's breathing finally had calmed down to steady breaths he placed his free hand onto the boy's forehead to press his head against his chest and he slowly took his hand away from Potter's eyes, kept it just in front of them to keep the boy's eyes in the shadows if necessary.

"Alright Harry." Snape said gently increasing the pressure he had on the boy's forehead so he couldn't squirm his head away. "You can open your eyes now, slowly."

Well, if he had thought that it would be so easy, then he had thought wrongly. Of course it wouldn't be easy. Nothing ever was easy when it came to Potter, was it now?

"Come on, Potter, open your eyes, you can't keep them close forever." He said, easily slipping into his role as a teacher and head of the house of Slytherin. "Come on, boy. Just open them slowly. I have my hand in front of …"

"Hurts." The boy croaked out, followed by a pained gasp.

"Your eyes hurt?" Snape asked, forcing himself to keep his frustration out of his voice.

Potter simply nodded, a movement however that seemed to be just as painful as talking and he stilled his head quickly.

"You have been standing closest to the exploding cauldron and while the fumes had burned your throat and probably your lungs, your eyes had been blinded by the bright light." He said while gently placing his hand back against Potter's eyes, not really touching the lids but the boy's eyebrows, giving him a sense of security. "It will stop hurting soon. I have my hand back on your eyes. Just try to open them underneath my hand. Come on, now, open them. That's a good boy. Good. Can you see anything?" He asked upon feeling the boy's eyelashes moving against his palm and that for knowing that Harry finally had opened his eyes. He was feeling nearly anxious and he breathed a sigh of relief the moment Potter nodded again. Barely, hesitantly, but he nodded.

"Very good." He whispered. The brat could breathe, the brat could see, and the rest, they would be able to deal with.

"Now up with you." He said and pulling the boy to his feet he led him out of the laboratory and back into the classroom, his free hand still shielding the boy's eyes.

Draco was looking up at them, the moment they entered the classroom and he quickly came over, taking Potter's other arm, causing him to flinch with the action, and he quickly released the Gryffindor.

"What happened?" He asked startled while the Potions Master gently but firmly forced Potter onto his mattress.

"Look after him." He ordered, ignoring the boy's question. "I will be back in ten minutes."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Wondering _how_ Potter had managed to get his potion exploded by simply _checking_ it, Draco sat down beside the Gryffindor, ignoring the fact that he was sitting at Weasley's mattress, who was scowling at him angrily because of it, and ignoring Granger hovering on Potter's other side.

"Want a cold cloth for your eyes, Potter?" He asked and at the boy's nod Theodore immediately went over to the sink and took one of the old cleaning rags, wetting it with cold water and then brought it back. Getting the cloth onto the other boy's eyes however was not as easy, as Potter pressed his palms to them and it took Draco three attempts to pull his hands away. The moment the cold cloth was on the black-haired boy's eyes he had his hands back atop the cloth, pressing it against them.

Snape meanwhile was cleaning away the remnants of the exploded potion, also wondering _how_ in Merlin's name Harry had managed to get it exploded in the first place and the only thought that came to his mind was – the boy had stirred the potion in order to test the substance, and he was cursing under his breath. He was angry. Angry at Harry for stirring the potion, angry at himself for allowing them to brew the potion in the first place, angry at the situation itself and angry at anything else that came to his mind. This damn, stupid boy could be death, for Merlin's sake!

Checking the other potions and ensuring that they were still alright he took Potter's cauldron to place it into the sink and he froze mid-step the moment his gaze fell into the cauldron.

There wasn't a drop of the potion left inside, but a small black object caught his eyes and he immediately recognized a battery beetle's eye.

Looking back at the place where the cauldron had been placed over the fire and looking at the cupboard with the potions ingredients, and then adding two and two together he came to the correct conclusion. Growling angrily he placed the cauldron into the sink and then made his way back to the classroom to look at the smallest of his charges.

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Upon entering the classroom Snape immediately took in the scene with one look of his dark eyes.

Draco was sitting on Weasley's mattress and beside Potter, Theodore was on the smaller Gryffindor's other side, together with Longbottom and Finnigan. Weasley was standing a few steps aside and scowling at Draco who was sitting on his mattress and Granger stood beside him, together with Thomas, asking questions without getting answers. The rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins were hovering in small groups around the scene, discussing what might have happened, their faces startled, frightened and unsure, and he knew that he would have to be careful if he wanted to avoid them all going into a panic attack.

Right now he needed to be calm and his usual self, he needed to keep the upper hand.

"Mr. Zabini, go to the cupboard and take out the seventh year's potions books." He ordered strictly while striding towards the sink and taking a cup from the shelf, pouring warm tea from the mantelpiece into it. "Hand them out to everyone aside from Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott. Everyone else, take a seat at the desks and start reading chapter one, _'Potions, their uses and their dangers'_. There will be a discussion about the chapter tomorrow morning. Everyone not finished reading within the next two hours will write a three feet essay on the chapter. Start! _Now_!"

He went towards the mattresses with the cup and knelt beside Potter, looking the boy over closely.

The damage was lessened as good as possible, he noticed, and either Theodore or Draco had placed a wet cloth over the boy's eyes, but the pain was still there, as – most probably – was the shock, and the boy was shaking horribly now.

"I have a cup of tea here, Harry." He calmly said, gently pulling one of Harry's hands from his eyes, but he actually had to help the boy wrapping his fingers around the cup. And still – the boy's hands were shaking so badly that he would have spilled its contents, had the Potions Master not wrapped his own larger hand around the child's in order to steady it.

"Does your eyes still hurt, Harry?" He asked gently and the boy again nodded.

"Headache." Came a rough whisper from the boy and he reached the cup towards Draco who took it immediately.

"That had to be expected." He said, gently pulling the boy's other hand and the cool cloth away from his eyes. "I need to have a look at your eyes. Open them. Slowly."

Well, the boy did, a fraction, before quickly pressing them shut again with a sharp hiss of pain and he was not sure if it was because of the movement itself or because of the light blinding him.

"Open them, Potter! Now!" He ordered, again feeling sorry about using such a harsh tone with the boy that definitely was in a mixture of shock, fear and pain, but he simply had to know if there was more damage than he had thought originally. He wasn't able to use a diagnostic spell as still no magic worked down here, and so he had to retreat to using simple muggle ways for examining the boy.

"Hurts." Came the next raspy comment and he gritted his teeth for a moment.

"I know, Potter." He said, forcing himself to not sounding worried or upset. "Anyway, I need them open for a moment to check for any damage being done. Now, Potter, if you don't want to find yourself in detention for the rest of your stay here."

A short humorless laugh followed by a series of rough coughs that had him worried even more, but the teen again pried his eyes open while gritting his teeth, his hands curled into fists.

"That's it." Snape growled gently. "Now follow my finger with your eyes."

"Uhm … what finger?" The boy rasped out, his brows furrowed in concentration, or worry, or pain, he didn't know and he himself frowned.

"You claimed you could see, earlier when I asked you." Snape said, grabbing the boy's chin and turning his head, searching the boy's green and unfocused eyes with his own dark ones.

"Only light." Potter answered and he sighed. That was not what he had hoped for and the only thing he could do was to wait, as it seemed.

Placing a calming hand on the boy's shoulder he felt eyes on him and he looked up, just to see Ronald Weasley watching him and he watched back at him with what his Slytherins called his best _'Death Eater glare'_.

"You better do not move an inch while reading." He said in his darkest growl, ignoring Potter flinching at his tone. He would have to make sure the boy knew whom he was talking to as long as Potter wasn't able to see him if he didn't want the boy startled out of his pants. "And you better leave Mr. Potter alone Mr. Weasley, if you do not want to find yourself in detention for not only the rest of your stay down here, but until after you even have graduated. This here – does not really bode well for you."

Lowering his eyes back at the boy in front of him he sighed and taking the cup back from Draco he helped the young Gryffindor to drink a few more sips.

"It will be best if you close your eyes, Potter." He gently said. "Try to sleep. I will be checking on you during the night, and tomorrow morning we will know more, I hope."

Watching the boy hissing in pain at the movement of closing his eyes he knew that it not necessarily was the light that caused the pain but maybe the movements from his lids over his eyes. He just didn't know if this was the better option or not.

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He didn't dare leaving the classroom tonight and so he was sitting at his desk, dozing every now and then between checking on the boy, just as he had promised, and more than once he found himself dozing while sitting on the floor beside the boy's mattress. Potter's sleep was rather restless and he knew that not only the child's usual nightmares were plaguing him, but restlessness and pain caused by his damaged throat and lungs and his injured eyes too.

All in all together, it had not been a day that he would like to repeat and he only hoped that Harry would recover completely while he found his hands unconsciously carding through the boy's messy hair every now and then – yet, he didn't really mind and he even found himself smiling at that thought.

"What have you done to me, child?" He whispered.

"You're not the only one he has hexed, sir." He heard Theodore whisper.

Well, he should have known that the boy would be awake. He too had not been able to use the dreamless sleep potion tonight.

"Sleep, you impertinent brat." He growled at the other boy, but again a small smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth.

Well, rationally considered - he could be pleased with the day – a little bit at least.

Potter had survived a potions accident that _could_ have been deathly. He had managed to keep the entire class from panicking and he had learned that he actually liked the brat.

Merlin! The moment he had thought the first potion, the one that would keep Potter's lungs working, hadn't worked – he had thought the world would crush down on him. He'd had potions accidents before, he was a Potions Teacher since long years now, so of course this wasn't his first one. And it wasn't the first one that was serious either, but never before had he nearly panicked like he had today.

He would get the boy out of here, he promised. He would get him out alive, and he would give him a home.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the godson and the future son  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	11. the godson and the future son

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_Merlin! The moment he had thought the first potion, the one that would keep Potter's lungs working, hadn't worked – he had thought the world would crush down on him. He'd had potions accidents before, he was a Potions Teacher since long years now, so of course this wasn't his first one. And it wasn't the first one that was serious either, but never before had he nearly panicked like he had today._

_He would get the boy out of here, he promised. He would get him out alive, and he would give him a home._

**Chapter eleven**

**Day six – Saturday, seventh of September**

**The godson and the future son**

Soft sniffling got him out of his slumber and after a moment he needed to get his mind wrapped around the fact that he was not in his private chambers but still in the potions classroom he tried to get his mind to work a bit more so that he could find out what exactly the situation was.

Someone was sniffling again.

What time was it?

He blinked and noticed that he was laying on a mattress instead of on the sofa in his office. A small and warm body was laying half beside him, half atop of him and casting his eyes towards the small person he noticed the messy hair of Potter's head and for a moment his hand came up to run through the messy black mop of hair, a small smile on his lips.

As loath as he was to admit it – he not only had started to reconsider that boy. He realized that he had started to care for Potter, that he had started to care for him deeply, more than for anyone else down here.

Of course he did, a small voice in his head laughed. They were down here since five days now, in a dire situation, not knowing when help would come, not knowing _if _help would come at all, not knowing if they would survive. He was a teacher that worked with children since nearly fifteen years now and it was his job to worry about them, to care for them. So – yes, it was only logically that he started to form a closer relationship with them now, in this situation where they needed him desperately, especially Theodore and Harry.

He knew those psychological lines. In such a situation the worst enemies could become friends. Something the Dark Lord had liked to play with, imprisoning enemies within the same cell. The bastard had loved to play with the emotions of his victims, watching them forming a close bond and then torturing them, watching their pain, not only the physical pain of the one tortured, but the emotional pain of the one watching.

What the Dark Lord however never had understood was – he actually had done them a favour. The bonds those victims had formed, the friendships they had formed, had helped them through the tortures, and alone in their cell they could be just themselves, they could comfort each other. The bastard just never had known love, and that for he never had understood its capacity, had never understood that with each torture he had driven them deeper into their bond.

And the same happened here, he knew.

What he however didn't understand, was the fact that he didn't mind, and again his fingers carded lightly through the Gryffindor's hair.

Again the soft sniffling reached his ears and got him out of his thoughts, and carefully, so he wouldn't wake the teen that was laying with his upper body across his chest, he sat up a bit so he could look the students over one by one.

Harry was still asleep. It was a restless sleep, as he hadn't taken the dreamless sleep last night, yes, but neither had the boy had a nightmare yet, nor were there any signs of crying. Most probably the boy hadn't had nightmares tonight due to the fact that he was comforted by him, seeing that he practically had his arms around the smaller body.

Theodore, the other candidate he thought could have been the cause for the soft sniffling, was asleep too, peacefully right now. He had pulled him from his nightmares already twice that night, but he had realized that the boy's nightmares had been less harsh than they normally were. Probably too due to the fact that he, Snape, was sleeping close by, giving his student the feeling of safety.

His eyes next fell onto Tracy, Daphne, Draco and then onto Longbottom and Granger.

_Mr_. Longbottom and _Miss _Granger, he growled at himself in his mind.

They all slept peacefully.

A movement at the next mattress beside Miss Granger's one however, caused him to lift his eyebrow. It actually was Weasley who right now was running a fist over his eyes and he could see the boy's shoulders shaking.

For a moment he actually considered leaving the redhead to his misery, but then he sighed. Never mind what – he was the teacher here, he was the adult here, and it was his duty to comfort them, even Weasley. So, with a sigh he made his way out from underneath Potter, from underneath Harry, carefully to not wake the boy and he was glad the moment the young Gryffindor lay flat on the mattress without waking up. It would be enough to deal with Weasley right now, he didn't need Harry to wake up too right now.

Going over to the teen he crouched down at the foot of Weasley's mattress and gently touched the boy's leg. The students had long ago pushed their mattresses together so no gap was between them now where one could have slipped between. It was cold enough down here during the nights so they didn't care about keeping distance, never mind if they were Gryffindors or Slytherins.

The boy lifted his head startled and looked over at him, and he could see the pale cheeks blushing. He didn't say anything about it and just placed his forefinger at his lips, indicating that Weasley should be silent too so he wouldn't wake the others and then mentioned him to get up and towards the desks that stood in the middle of the large classroom. He normally would have taken such a discussion with a student into his office, but Harry and Theodore both hadn't taken the dreamless sleep tonight and he wanted to be close so he could help if necessary. He wanted to have an eye on Harry too after the accident Weasley had caused yesterday.

The fourteen year old did, embarrassment clearly shown on his face.

He took two cups from the cupboard and poured tea from the mantelpiece. He added honey into the one that was for Weasley and then took them to the desk beside which the boy already was standing.

"Take a seat please, Mr. Weasley." He quietly said while placing the boy's cup at the desk, followed by a "drink" while pointing at the cup of tea.

"What do you want, sir?" Weasley asked angrily, sitting down but refusing to take the tea.

"I would be very careful in my choice of tone if I were you, Mr. Weasley!" The Potions Master hissed, leaning his hands onto the desktop and fixing the teen with his dark eyes, causing the redhead to pull away for a moment.

"Why?" Weasley looked at him with a dejected expression on his face. "I've messed up anyway."

"And so you think it doesn't matter if you mess up even more." Snape said, coming to the right conclusion on what was going on in the Gryffindor. He lifted his eyebrow at the youngest Weasley. He knew all of them now, and as much as they might look alike, they were different nevertheless. And Ronald Weasley surely was the most difficult to handle. Bill and Charley surely had been some of the easiest to handle, as were the twins, as strange as it might sound. Percival and Ronald were the most difficult ones, even if he had to admit that Percival simply was an idiot that tried to get as much attention as possible whereas Ronald Weasley simply was the youngest of six boys and that for always had to try and live up to his brother's expectations. Ginevra Weasley was another thing altogether. She was very much alike Molly Weasley, even if as an only girl with six older brothers what surely wasn't easy, the girl had found her own way.

"What does it matter?" The red headed teen got him out of his musings. "Harry's already angry at me. Hermione doesn't talk to me anymore and Neville always looks at me angrily, as do the rest of the Gryffindors. Even the Slytherins are looking funny at me. Even they seem to be on Harry's side."

Snape looked down at the teenager for a long moment before he sighed and then sat down across from the redhead and to Ron's surprise the anger was gone from the unfathomable deep black eyes. If he wasn't mistaken, then there even seemed to be a tiny glimmer of concern.

He blinked rapidly, that surely couldn't be.

"You seem to forget, Mr. Weasley, that there are no houses during our stay down here." Snape then said. "And you seem to be the only one who actually still has problems with this. Our situation is dire enough so we do not need the animosity between our houses right now, and even my Slytherins are seeing it the same way."

"So what?" Weasley shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter anymore. Harry's angry at me, as is Hermione and the rest."

"And you think that is reason enough to simply do nothing to gain back their friendship?" The teacher asked, his eyebrow raised at the teen. "Drink." He added, pointing at the cup in front of Weasley.

"It's too late for that, isn't it?" The red-head asked, causing Snape to huff at him.

The Potions Master looked over at the black-haired Gryffindor that right now was shivering for a moment. The younger wizard had slipped into an uneasy sleep the moment he had left him, his breathing coming more and more labored and his face was tight in obvious pain, or maybe fear. With a sigh he turned back to the Weasley boy.

"Actually, you are quite wrong." He said. "Once I was able to stop the pain in his eyes and lungs, Mr. Potter was quite worried that I might cut you into potions ingredients. Your friend made me _promise_ to keep from doing so. Unfortunately, that for I only can punish you, not kill you."

Weasley nodded at him, gulping, while casting a worried glance at the group of mattresses.

"I didn't want this." He whispered, averting his eyes.

"Then why did you do it?" Snape growled at him, trying to sound not too threateningly.

"I just … I was … I thought … I thought he was betraying us."

"You were jealous." Snape simply stated. "Maybe you should reconsider your prejudices. You have seen that the Slytherins are trying to comfort your friend, even though he is a Gryffindor. And you have seen that the Slytherins are ready to play cards and to joke with your friends even though they are Gryffindors. And you have seen that it simply works. Maybe you will learn that the Slytherins, just as you Gryffindors, are just children, like you."

"Do you think he'll be alright?" The red-head asked after a moment of silence, looking over at Potter and once more he caused Snape to sigh.

"I don't know." He quietly said, not sparing Weasley the truth that maybe the boy would not be alright. "We will see coming morning and Harry will wake. I do hope so, but I cannot say so right now."

"I really did not want this." Weasley repeated, leaning his face onto his arms he had placed atop the tabletop.

"I do know this, Ronald." The Potions Master quietly said. "Maybe in future you will think before you act."

At the use of the boy's given name – even if Snape didn't know why exactly he had used it – the redhead looked up at him, startled, blinking at him stupidly and Snape lifted his eyebrow at him.

"Do you think Harry will give me a second chance?" The boy asked, his voice sounding miserable.

"I guess you underestimate your friend, Mr. Weasley." Snape answered, taking another sip of his tea. "Harry has a great capability to forgive. He has forgiven the Slytherins, he has forgiven me, and I am sure he will forgive you too. If you however misuse his trust once more, then you will have to answer me. Your punishment will be an apology. You will apologize to Harry, and you will do so in front of the entire class. You will do so properly and you will explain your motivations towards him. Never mind Harry's reaction to your apology however, you will accept it and you will make it up to him in form of acting as a friend instead of a boy that is jealous just because his friend tries to comfort other people as well. And believe me, Mr. Weasley, should you act in such a way once again, you won't get away so easily. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." The boy answered, looking a bit more relieved even if the worry hadn't left his face completely.

"The others may see your actions, they might watch you close for a while and I guess it will take some time until you have regained their trust. But I expect you to try your best nevertheless their hesitancy towards you. And now I expect you to go back to sleep. It is still early in the morning and you have missed some of your much needed sleep."

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The Potions Master went back to the mattresses, watching Weasley laying down and again his eyes wandered to the smaller Gryffindor that strangely held his affection, towards Harry.

The boy had not woken yet but he still was shivering in his sleep, his face still tense and his sleep had become more restless now, and with a sigh he made his way back to the child. If his presence calmed Potter, Potter of all people, then be it. And honestly, if it took laying beside the boy and running his hand through the boy's hair to comfort him, then it was a small price to pay.

So he simply re-gathered the boy into his arms and ignoring the flinch and the small whimper Potter gave away, he hushed the child with a few soothing words and ran his hand through the black mop of hair, feeling that he didn't even mind doing so. It still felt strange, but at the same time he felt that he wanted to do this, that it calmed not only the child but himself too, that it felt nice to comfort the boy like this.

He didn't know if Potter would be ready to accept the offer he promised himself he would make, the younger wizard still flinched away from him whenever he offered comfort, but not because it was him, Snape, who offered it. Potter flinched upon being touched never mind who it was who touched him, he noticed upon thinking back over the past years, and the boy's mind right now was too hazy to think of who he was with. It would take a long time to get that boy to being a normal teenager that wouldn't flinch or wince upon being touched or being addressed.

Harry woke slowly, his ears picking up the sound before any of his other conscious thoughts responded and he moved his head, trying to bury deeper into the warmth that surrounded him. He felt safe, for the first time ever in his life he felt absolutely safe and he wanted to hold onto that safety for a moment longer, just one moment more.

His next conscious realization was that something touched his head, that something laid on his forehead and it felt nice, he thought for a moment until he wondered what exactly it was that touched his forehead. It was a hand, he soon realized and it was a warm hand, a large one, one that moved its thumb over his brows and he actually had to hitch a breath.

Aunt Petunia never had touched him like this. He could remember aunt Petunia touching Dudley like this, but never _him_. And now Snape of all people did, Snape of all people touched him in a way he years over years had wanted aunt Petunia touching him.

And he _knew_ that it was Snape.

The Potions Master woke from his slumber, not knowing when exactly he had managed to go back to sleep after the conversation with Weasley and he immediately knew what it had been that had woken him. It had been a slight hitch of breath coming from the body that rested over his chest again. Potter.

The candles lining the walls were burning meanwhile and so it had to be at least eight o'clock in the morning.

"Harry?" He softly asked and the boy turned his head towards him, squinting his eyes in the light the candles provided. With a careful and slow movement, so he wouldn't startle the child, he placed his hand atop Harry's eyes, barely touching the lids.

"Keep them close for a moment." He softly said. "Open them when I say so and then I will remove my hand slowly so you can get used to the light."

He waited a few moments until he told the teen to open his eyes and then slowly removed his hand, keeping it so that Potter's eyes still were in its shadow.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, and the Gryffindor gave him a hesitant nod.

"Why are you so nice?" Potter asked, startling him for a moment before he sighed.

"Keep your eyes closed until they stop hurting." The man said. "I am trying to be less my classroom persona because I care, you silly child. And besides, it is _your_ fault, Mr. Potter, that I act so unlike like myself towards you. However you have managed it, but you have used magic down here when no one else is able to."

"I have what?" The Gryffindor asked, squinting his eyes at him, startled.

"I told you to keep your eyes closed, Potter." Snape growled. "You have woven a strange spell around me, you silly child. That is why I seem to actually – _like_ you, how much a headache it might cause me. Will you be able to manage to keep your eyes closed by yourself or shall I blindfold you?"

He had made the word _'like'_ sounding as if he had just chewed something absolutely disgusting, but he nevertheless could see a strange mixture of surprise, unsureness, bliss and affection crossing the Gryffindor's face. Well, maybe he had been right with what he had told Weasley. This damn, blasted child actually might have forgiven him. Quickly he scowled at the boy to mask his own happiness.

"I'll manage." Came the boy's words and he nodded.

"Good." He growled, drawing a small smile from the Gryffindor with his growl and again he scowled. "Are you able to breathe easier?"

"Yes, sir." Was the answer.

"Good." He continued growling. "And your other injuries? How is your back doing?"

"It's fine, sir."

"Good. Then you might want to get up and take a shower." He suggested. "For once you will be the first one and have no reason to complain about an engaged bathroom."

"I never have complained about it."

"Just go and do as I say." The Potions Master groaned. "And keep your eyes closed. I will lead you to the bathroom."

"Uhm …"

"There is no need for an _'uhm'_, Potter." He said, taking the boy's upper arm and pulling him to the edge of the mattress. "You will keep your eyes closed or I will blindfold you, what I probably should do anyway. Get up carefully now."

Harry slowly got off the mattress, feeling Snape's hand shift to push against his back gently before leading him through the dungeons classroom, through the small hallway that led to the bathroom, the kitchen and the laboratory. He knew these three rooms rather well by now. He knew the Professor's office and the restroom behind the office too now. And then there was the classroom. Never before would he have thought that he one day would know Snape's dungeons halls as well as he did right now.

"Be careful when stepping into the shower, Potter." Snape growled while leading him into the room. "I will dim the lights in here so you can try to open your eyes a bit. I won't have you wandering the bright hallway by your own however. You will call me if you are finished. I will be in my office and I will hear you."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem if I …"

"You will do as I say and keep your eyes closed, or you will find yourself blindfolded sooner than you can count to one, Potter." The Potions Master growled. "Your eyes are irritated and I won't risk anything. Your eyesight is bad enough as it is. I will start brewing a potion that might help calming your eyes. Until then you will do as I say. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Came the answer and he shook his head, blew out most of the candles and then left the boy to take a long shower that hopefully would relax him further.

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Later, after everyone had gotten ready for the day and after their tea for _'breakfast'_ the Potions Master ordered them to sit onto the mattresses. He pulled one of the desks closer and took his seat on the desk's edge, facing the students that were sitting on the mats, some of them having wrapped their blankets around them, others leaning against the warm wall beside the mantelpiece. Yes, there really only were the cartons of milk missing for having a pre-school class instead of a bunch of fourth years that attended one of the best academic institutes Britain wizarding world had to offer.

"Well." He started, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wish you to be as comfortable as possible, so I suggest you all take your blankets. There still is the chapter I assigned you to read yesterday evening to discuss. So – the subject is open and you may start wherever you want."

"Well, according to chapter one, _'potions, their uses and their dangers'_, on the seventh year advanced potions book, Marvin Man Doran tried to find a potion that would heal every injury, never mind how bad it was." Draco started when no one else did. "He succeeded, but only in theory, because whenever he tried to brew the potion, the cauldrons exploded in a rather dangerous way and he often got injured until he finally died in one of his attempts. Generally spoken, he has done what potions was for. He'd had a problem and he searched a solution for it. He created a healing potion in theory and then tried to brew it. He had it, the formula was correct he only had not been able to brew it because it had been too dangerous. In other words, the potion could have healed everyone, and anyway it was deathly."

"Where do _you _know it from?" Dean Thomas asked, his brows furrowed. "You haven't been reading yesterday. You've helped Professor Snape with Potter, if I'm right."

"I'm the Potions Master's godson, Thomas." Draco drawled and inwardly Snape cringed. _That _was not an information he would have given away. But it was too late now. "It would be rather embarrassing if I didn't know what was written in a chapter he assigned to you. And no, as you can see that I actually _do_ know enough about potions, he does not play favours. There is no need for him to favour me as potions is one of my strong subjects."

The other students looked from Draco to him, Snape, startled, back to Draco and then back to him and he sighed. No, that really was no information he would have given away.

"Well, that makes Professor Snape a bit more human." Came from – Weasley! – and some of the Gryffindors nodded their heads, accepting the fact. But then his eyes fell onto Harry who's now open but squinting eyes tried to look at him with a startled expression on his face that not only _bordered _on hurt but that actually _was _hurt and the small Gryffindor pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly, trying to protect himself while he seemed to struggle with tears.

"You seem to be under a false impression, Mr. Potter." Snape said, addressing the child, knowing what was going through that thick and dense head. "Just because Draco is my godson, it does not mean that I …"

"It doesn't matter, sir." Came the soft voice, interrupting him. "I understand."

"What exactly is it you understand, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, ignoring the confused gazes the Gryffindors threw between him and the boy.

"It isn't important, sir." Came the boy's answer and with a sigh he got up, went over to the Gryffindor and knelt in front of the child that looked simply miserable.

"Look at me, Harry." He said, placing one hand underneath the boy's chin, lifting his head so he had to look at him while at the same time he placed his other hand atop the boy's still squinting eyes, shielding them from the harsh light of the candles and he tried to read the boy's eyes that still were not their normal green but clouded. "It seems you do _not_ understand, but how could you, child? You have had to share your aunt and uncle with your cousin and they clearly favoured him while at the same time they neglected and mistreated you. Of course you think it will be the same with Draco. But it won't. Draco is my godson, yes. But that does not mean that I will retreat from my offer. I told you that you won't go back to your relatives, and I meant it. I told you that I would take you, and I meant it. I won't favour Draco, I won't act in the same way as your relatives have. I have promised you a home and I still mean it. Is that understood, Mr. Potter?"

"But …"

"There are no buts, Harry." Snape said, cutting him off, ignoring the gasps coming from the Gryffindors. "I do know that it might be strange to you. And honestly? I do not know how I could make it clear to you right now, because I too have no answer to the reason I am offering you that home. I guess you simply will have to trust me on this and see. Are you ready to do so, child?"

There was a hesitant nod from the child in front of him, accompanied by turning an embarrassed face into the direction of his classmates and the Potion Master looked the class over too.

"I am sure that this kind of information revealed about Mr. Potter's relatives and his home life will not leave this room." He calmly said, addressing the class. "Otherwise you, _all of you_, will find yourself in quite some trouble. The same goes for any inappropriate remark one of you will make towards – or about – Mr. Potter. As I just said, I am about to take him in as my ward and everyone who hurts him, will have to answer _me_. And I am sure that _that_ is something none of you will wish to experience. So do not even start to gossip."

He cast one last and long look at Potter before simply running his hand with which he had shielded the boy's eyes from the light of the candles down over his face, causing him to close his eyes again with the act.

"Keep them closed and allow yourself to trust an adult for once, Potter." He whispered harshly and then got up and went back to the desk he had occupied before, sitting down onto its edge once again.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you have been right." The then said. "Marvin Man Doran invented an ultimate healing potion, but he never had been able to actually brew it. He died in his attempts and everyone who tried after him simply failed as much as Marvin Man Doran had. Nothing has changed since then. Potions simply is a dangerous subject."

"Malfoy often threw things in other people's cauldrons, but he never got into trouble for it." Finnigan said.

"Believe me, Mr. Finnigan, Mr. Malfoy _got _into trouble often enough for this particular habit of his." Snape answered, throwing a serious look towards his godson. "I just do not punish the Slytherins openly. I do so in privacy, but believe me, Mr. Finnigan, their punishment is a lot harsher than is yours, what is the reason as to _why _I do so in privacy. They do not only face taken points or detention if they disappoint me."

"Oh." The boy made, looking over at the Slytherins with a pitying look in his eyes.

"Oh, indeed." Snape answered with his eyebrow lifted at the other boy. "I am ready to punish you in privacy too, if you prefer that, Mr. Finnigan, but believe me, your punishment then won't fall out as easy as it normally does. You might seem to think that I favour my house, and in the open I do, as no other teacher regards my students as they should be regarded. Believe me, however, I am even stricter and harsher to them as I am to you. And nevertheless they trust me, because they know I always am there for them."

"Yeah, because they're in your house. You're supposed to …"

"Could we stop this line of thought please?" Potter murmured, loud enough for all to hear. "There are no houses, remember?"

"Exactly." Snape said. "I apologize for starting it. Fact is, Draco actually _got_ punished for his throwing habit."

"Besides, I always knew what I can throw so it wouldn't harm anyone, contraire to others who threw harmful things around the classroom because they didn't know how they would react to the ingredients used." Draco threw in with a dark gaze at Weasley.

"What isn't an excuse, Mr. Malfoy." Snape reprimanded. "Potions is too dangerous a subject and not even _you_, as adept in potions as you might be, do know everything about them."

"Yes, sir." Came the blond boy's answer. "Sorry, sir."

"I do understand the chapter I read, but I just can't help messing up." Longbottom murmured and Snape actually had to strain his ears to understand him. "I just get so nervous and then things happen."

The Potions Master regarded him with a long look and then nodded.

"You are rather good at herbology and care of magical creatures, aren't you?" He then asked, his dark eyes piercing the teen.

"Yes, sir." Was the answer. "Herbology is my favourite subject."

"Did you ever consider that herbology and care of magical creatures both is the substructure to Potions, Mr. Longbottom, Neville?"

"Uhm … well … yes, somehow." Neville said, gazing at him, startled at the use of his given name, just as Ronald Weasley had done in the morning. "But then … I don't know … somehow I always fear I might make a mistake and then the mistake happens."

"Maybe you would profit from simply reminding yourself that you cannot be completely inept at potions if you are capable of handling plants and animals. Maybe you will be able to remind yourself that you are capable of brewing a potion correctly with your background knowledge in both subjects in future each time you enter my classroom. It might work, Neville."

"I will try, sir." Longbottom said with much more confidence than he had seen coming from this boy in the past. "Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome." He said. "It is just for my own sake, after all. It might safe me the trouble of having you exploding cauldron over cauldron during my classes." He smirked.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It had been a conversation so unlike Snape and his classroom, it nearly had been funny sometimes, but they all had seen a bit more, had seen a glimpse behind the subject, behind the Slytherins – or Gryffindors, depending on who was considering the discussion, and last but not least, behind the Potions Master, and all of them had stayed rather relaxed.

And right now Snape was sitting behind his desk, writing down the newest happenings, writing down the ingredients he had used to brew the potion he intended to use on Potter's eyes. He was sure that no long lasting damage had been done to the boy's eyes. At least he hoped. They just hurt when he moved them, when he closed or opened them or whenever they were exposed to the open air, the boy still could not see, he still could not make out forms, shapes or colors, but he could distinguish light and dark and he hoped that it would get better with the potion. It would be finished in the evening, and then he would see.

Looking over at the boy he noticed that Harry still was sitting with his knees hugged toward his chest, in a self protecting manner, and he was sure that somehow the boy was having flashbacks. He hadn't taken the information that Draco was his godson very well. Understandable.

Potter definitely had felt it too, the bond that had started to enfold between them. The smile he had shown him this morning, as small and as short as it had been, had been proof to that. Harry too knew that there was something between the two of them, even if he might not understand what this bond meant.

Hell, he himself didn't understand it completely yet. So how could a child, a fourth year, understand it?

Now however – Potter feared that Draco might be that what his cousin had been to him and he feared that he, Snape, might be that what his uncle had been to him. Maybe – and really just maybe – he _might_ _know_ that he wouldn't beat him. But there it already stopped. He was sure that the boy didn't even believe that he never would starve him, that he never would abuse him verbally, and that he never would harm him. Potter never had learned what it meant to have an adult around that actually cared, that worried, tried to help, one that didn't abuse his powers. Of course he didn't understand.

He actually would have to show him what it meant. He actually would have to teach him what it meant. And the boy actually would have to learn what it meant. It wouldn't be easy, he knew it. The boy wouldn't believe him for a long time, maybe even never. Maybe those fears, the fears of being beaten, of being starved and abandoned were ingrained so deeply in his mind that he never would learn that he, Snape, always stood to his word, that he never would abandon a student of him and surely not his ward, never mind how annoying this student or his ward could be.

Merlin help him, but Draco often enough had annoyed the hell out of him – and nevertheless he never had abandoned him, and surely he never would.

Looking over at the child again he realized that maybe it was time to take the first step and with a sigh he got off the chair he sat in and went over to him. Potter only would either open his eyes if he called him over or he would stumble blindly through the classroom and hurt himself. He went down onto one knee in front of the Gryffindor who must have felt or heard his presence as he lifted his head.

"Don't even think of opening your eyes, Potter." He warned before the boy could even think of doing so. "I have a few things to discuss with you and want you to accompany me into my office." He said, helping the boy up and steering him towards the open door and into his – _private_ space.

It wasn't so private anymore however. He always kept the door open meanwhile allowing his students in his office too, knowing that sometimes they simply need to be in another room than just the classroom. He also allowed them to linger in the kitchen or the hallways, as long as they behaved. It really had become a small suit to them. He only kept the rest room off limits, reserved for emergencies only, so a student could have some privacy there if needed.

The strange thing about this entire situation was – he didn't mind as much as he had feared he would mind in the beginning. In the beginning he had been sure he would go crazy soon if they were not rescued within the day. But now? As strange as it was, he wasn't about to go crazy. He didn't enjoy it overly, but he didn't mind either. It was day six now since their imprisonment, but the children behaved rather well and they actually were rather reasonable, most of the time at least, and most of them at least.

There had been a few tears, a few complaints about being hungry or tired, about the need to get out and have sunlight and fresh air, about the lack of physical activities, but that had been all. They were able to distract themselves with games like answering questions, 'seven lost' and studying or other such things.

Steering the boy to the sofa and pushing him down into the cushions he blew out a few of the candles and then sat down beside him.

"You may open your eyes a bit if you like." He said. "I have dimmed the light. Do so slowly nevertheless."

He watched Harry opening his eyes, wincing at the pain it caused and he sighed. He had hoped that by now it had gotten better a bit.

"You may close them at any point you want, Harry." He said. "I just wanted to have a few words with you." The boy nodded at him.

"Good." He continued, suddenly feeling very awkward. "I just wanted to ask … well, on Saturdays I have tea with Draco and I thought … well, maybe you want to accompany us."

"That would be …" The boy started happily before his face fell and he averted his eyes. "I mean, I don't know if …"

"What did I tell you, child?" The Potions Master said, placing his hand underneath the boy's chin and turning his head so he had to look at him, even though he wasn't sure that he could really see. "I told you that as my ward you will be treated the same as Draco. I won't force you of course, neither do I force Draco, but I would welcome it if you attended our Saturday tea. I had not asked you, if I would not wish for your company. So no, you won't disturb us."

"Oh …" Potter made unsurely. "Ok …"

"Good." The older wizard said. "Aside from those afternoons, maybe you would want to visit me once or twice a week for private meetings? No remedial potions and no added defence lessons, just private conversations, playing chess or anything else, for dinner." He quickly added at the boy's face and it indeed brightened at his words again. "Just the two of us."

"Yes, that would be great, I guess." Potter answered a curious expression on his face, or a startled one, he couldn't quite name it with the boy's clouded eyes. Probably the teen wasn't sure what had made him answering so enthusiastic, or he wasn't sure why he had suggested it at all and his next words proved his thoughts.

"It won't be like detention, will it?"

"It won't, I promise." He confirmed. "It will be just an evening or two during the week to get to know each other better and to deepen the bond that already has formed between us."

"The bond?" The boy asked, closing his eyes, wincing with the movement but then greedily and tiredly sinking back into the cushions of the sofa.

"A relationship between two persons also is called a bond." He explained. Of course the boy didn't know what to do with the term as he never had formed a bond aside from the friendship he had with Weasley and Granger – _Mr_. Weasley and _Miss _Granger, he reminded himself. "A bond can be between a child and a parent, between siblings, between friends or between two persons who want – like the muggles would say – marry. A bond simply is a deep relationship between two or more persons, concerning what kind of bond it is."

"But … you surely wouldn't … I mean …"

Lowering his head to one side and watching the teenager close he could see him struggling for words, running his hand through the messy mop of black hair, messing it up even more. "You see, I mean, I know you said you didn't hate me. But you never liked me either. And I don't understand … I mean … how … I just don't understand."

"Of course you don't." Snape said. "I don't understand it fully by myself. I think we both just have to accept that _it is_. During the past six days we have started a bond. We can of course ignore it, but I do see no reason in ignoring a bond as it only would bring misery on both parts if we did. You cannot normally go against a bond as it is a natural thing we have no control over. I for my part do not wish to go against any bond as it is a thing that is older than our wizarding society."

"Oh … ok." The teen made. "I guess we can try."

"I am glad you do." Snape drawled in his typical Snape-manner. "I however also wanted to tell you that I am proud of you. You have handled Mr. Weasley's apology rather well. I would not have wondered if you had not accepted his apology."

Weasley had approached the boy shortly after their discussion and he had watched the scene close, ready to intervene if things got out of hands, what had not happened.

**Flashback**

_"Harry?" Weasley approached his friend unsurely, keeping some space to Potter. "May I … I mean … I just wanted to say sorry. I … I didn't mean to hurt you … I …"_

_"Then why have you?" Harry asked, accusation audible in his voice. "You have hurt me. And not only physically. I mean, we've been friends, haven't we?"_

_"Yes." Weasley fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I know. But … I just was so … I thought you had … I mean …"_

_"You've been jealous!" Harry accused bitterly. "Know what? I don't know why. You know that the Dursleys hated me. I never might have told you all of it, but you knew they hated me. You knew I never was welcomed by them. And you knew they never were a family to me. So I don't know why you would be jealous of me. You have a family, a great one, one that loves you. You heard Professor Snape. And yes, it's true. So you know what? You can have them. If that's what you're jealous about, you can have them."_

_"I didn't mean that." Weasley said, nearly growled and he could see Harry tensing. He scowled and placed the quill aside, ready to get up and over to the two._

_"Then what did you mean, Ronald Weasley?" Harry asked. "That I'm famous? You know what? You can have that too. I'd be glad to get rid of it. You can have it. You knew I hate all the attention. You knew I hate all the famous 'the boy who lived thing'. I hate the fact that I'm called the saviour of the wizarding world. You can have it all, I don't want to carry this with me anyway. Maybe you don't know how much of a burden it is. You take it for a time and try to carry it."_

_"No, I didn't mean that either. I knew that you …"_

_"Then what?" Harry asked. "What exactly were you jealous of? Maybe the fact that I tried to get along with everyone? Think, Ron. We're down here since six days now and we don't know how much longer we'll be here. Would you like to be down here while being on the warpath? Would you like to be down here while arguing with the Slytherins? Would you like to be here with that much animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin? I for my part do not want this. We're one house right now, or no house. You may take it like the one on the roof and he has taken a hold so he won't fall down. I do not care. I for my part do want to have a bit of peace and freedom while we're here. And this way we have, all of us. You either accept it or you can piss off."_

_He lifted his eyebrow at the Gryffindor's speech. He hadn't known that the boy had it within him to actually tell someone off like this and he actually had to lower his head so no one would see his smirk. _

**End flashback**

Weasley had gotten pale, but he had accepted it and he had apologized. Harry had accepted it, but he had warned him to not pull such a stunt ever again and Weasley had promised not to. So – right now everything seemed to be as fine as it could be within this situation and he was glad about it.

Well, Potter's lungs had not been affected too much by the exploding potion, they had three more batches of nutrient potion, the conflict between Potter and Weasley was solved and in an hour the potion for the boy's eyes would be finished. So – all in all – it was a rather good day up to now. He only hoped that it would stay like this.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_just in case  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	12. just in case

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_Weasley had gotten pale, but he had accepted it and he had apologized. Harry had accepted it, but he had warned him to not pull such a stunt ever again and Weasley had promised not to. So – right now everything seemed to be as fine as it could be within this situation and he was glad about it._

_Well, Potter's lungs had not been affected too much by the exploding potion, they had three more batches of nutrient potion, the conflict between Potter and Weasley was solved and in an hour the potion for the boy's eyes would be finished. So – all in all – it was a rather good day up to now. He only hoped that it would stay like this._

**Chapter ****twelve**

**Day six – Saturday, seventh of September**

**Just in case**

"Poppy!" Molly Weasley yelped when the medi-witch's head appeared in the fire place and she jumped startled, her eyes frightened on the green flames with the face sitting in them, fearing the worst. She always feared the worst these days, feared the next news might be that her son had been found dead. "Poppy! Is Ron …" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"Calm down, Molly." Poppy said, her eyes worried on the normally so calm and resolute witch that right now was a nervous wreck – just as was each and every mother that had a child down in those dungeons. Even Narcissa Malfoy had visited her twice since September the second, asking for news, _any _news, asking for Draco's chances, and the woman had offered the headmaster free access to her library. Of course Albus couldn't march into Malfoy Manor, but Narcissa had promised that he just would have to name a title and she would bring him the book.

"I don't fire-call you because of your youngest son, Molly, but because of your daughter." She said, trying to sound calm. It wouldn't do if she got Molly even more nervous.

"What is with Ginny?" Molly asked frightened – so much for not getting Molly even more nervous than she already was.

"If you just floo over, please." She sighed. "I don't want to discuss this on the floo."

She got her head off the floo and stepped aside so Molly could come through, taking a calming potion from her stocks – just in case.

"What's wrong with Ginny, Poppy?" Molly asked the moment she had stepped through, her face pale, drawn and frightened, brushing off the sooth from her robes, a fact that told Poppy enough. Molly normally was a witch capable of stepping through the floo without having her clothes coated in sooth, something not everyone managed. But Molly normally did.

"Ginny is as fine as one can be in this situation, Molly, don't worry too much." Poppy tried to reassure her old friend. "I just think that maybe it is not the wisest move to keep her here at Hogwarts right now. She is a nervous wreck, just like everyone else, but as she has a brother down in the dungeons, she is a bit worse than most of the other children. I think it best you take her home, Molly. She isn't in a position to concentrate on classes too much anyway right now and she belongs with her parents right now."

"Of course!" Molly immediately agreed, most probably glad to have at least her daughter safely at home and with her.

"You will have trouble getting her to sleep and to eat as much as she should, Molly." Poppy said, trying to get the warning through to the mother without startling her. "She is too worried to do so by herself. I will give you a few vials of nutrient potion however and I want to see her twice a week."

"Of course, Poppy." Molly agreed. "Do you have any news about Ron? And the others?"

"No, there is no way to predict anything, Molly, and I won't start doing so either. I suggest that you keep Ginny busy and her mind off her brother by learning. It only can do her good to continue with her lessons and if the break she right now needs will be too long, she won't be behind the others too much in the end. Maybe that way she will even be able to do her end of term exams even with this break."

_'Not to mention that it will do you some good having your daughter around you.' _Poppy thought but wisely kept this for her self.

At this Molly looked at her startled. As it seemed she hadn't thought about _that_. Well, the woman had a son locked in the dungeons since six days now, without food, so of course she hadn't thought about educational matters concerning her children.

"And what if not?" The woman asked.

"Then she simply will repeat her third year, Molly, stop worrying."

"But – they won't be down there for so long, Poppy, will they?" Molly looked at her, still startled. "They wouldn't survive for much longer! They surely … Poppy! … they …"

"Calm down, Molly!" Poppy said, handing the other witch the vial with the calming potion. She had known that Molly would work herself into a panic. "They will be fine in the end, Molly. We have to believe in that or we can give up hope right now. Take that potion. The headmaster surely will find a way soon. Everyone is searching for a way down into the dungeons."

"You will inform me as soon as …" Molly started the moment she had taken the potion and it had taken effect. Nevertheless she again was not able to finish her sentence.

"Of course I will, Molly." Poppy said. "Never mind what the outcome will be, I will inform you at once. And now I suggest that you go to Minerva, Ginny is waiting for you in her office. I think, right now not even Minerva wants to keep one of her lions being alone in the Gryffindor common room."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"You said … I mean, you said that it was a bond … but, I mean … you surely can't …" Leaning forwards, the boy's body language screaming frustration and shaking his head Harry once again was biting his lower lip, and Snape actually had to force himself to keep his hand still before the wayward thing could tug at that lip to pull it out between the boy's teeth. "See, Professor. I understand that you said I won't have to go back there. And I even understand that you said you would take me if no one else would do so. But I only would be your ward and … and nothing more. I don't know why a bond would form if I only … I mean …" The boy suddenly stood, tears bright in his squinting eyes, but Snape knew that they were not from happiness.

"I mean, do you … do you even want me?" The child then choked out. His arms unconsciously had gone around his torso, hugging himself in his confusion, or in his fear over being rejected or taken in only because _someone had to_. "I mean really want me? Not only because …"

"Want you?" Severus Snape eased himself off the armchair he was sitting in and took a step towards the child. He gently enclosed the boy in his arms. He would show him that there was no need to hug his own arms around himself. He would show him that he would get comfort from him as an adult whenever he needed it. "Of course I do, you silly child." He said, allowing the child to sob into his shirt and quietly tried to reassure the teenager. "Or did I ever give away the impression that I did things I do not want to at a regular basis? If you remember correctly, then it was _me_ who made the offer in the first place. I have not been asked doing this, I offered this by my own free will." Slowly he ran his hand over the raven head, waiting for Harry to calm down.

"But … but I … I still don't understand it … I just feel like … everything has been turned over so many times since … and somehow …" The boy tightened the grip he had on his shirt when Snape pulled back a bit to look down at the child in his arms, wondering why he still didn't mind holding that irritating Gryffindor in his arms and wondering why he still didn't mind that irritating Gryffindor clinging to him like a limpet.

"Look at me, Harry." He commanded and the boy raised his head, squinting his eyes while trying to look into the black eyes that right now showed concern for him.

"I _do_ want you, child." Snape then said. "I know that you do not understand it right now, but I do want you and it is not important that you understand. I only ask you to accept the offer. You will understand later, when you are older maybe, or when we have gotten to know each other better, I do not know. I do not understand it fully by myself yet. But what I do know is, that I do want you, as much as this thought causes me a headache."

The Potions Master pulled the boy back into his arms and they stayed like that for some time longer, the man running his hand through the unruly black hair, wondering why he didn't mind doing so, why he felt comforted by this small gesture by his own, and the child still quietly sobbing into his shirt.

"Are you feeling better, child?" Snape asked when he noticed that the boy's sobbing had lessened.

"Does that mean …" The child hiccupped, nodding. "I mean, does that mean … I can stay with you? I mean … not only as a ward that had no other place?"

With a sigh Snape noticed that the boy probably had pulled all his courage together for asking this question, but that he probably just couldn't keep up his mask for now, that he simply _had_ to know, and he looked down at the child.

Why not? He asked himself. Why not making it permanently? Why not making it a bond that went deeper than the one between a guardian and his ward? He was ready for this, as seemed the boy. The seconds ticked away while he watched the child, each second emphasized by the low ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner.

Harry closed his eyes, close to tears again. If only Snape would answer finally, even if it was with a no. Anything but this deafening silence that quickly shredded his nerves to tiny pieces would be fine.

"Staying with me?" Snape finally spoke and he was surprised at how gentle his own voice sounded, surprised at how at ease he felt suddenly, and surprised at how needy this child in his arms seemed to be, hungry not only because of the lack of food he suffered from, but hungry, starving, for affection, for human comfort, for …

"Staying with me as not only my ward? But staying with me as my son? Are you really ready to be the son of a grumpy, old Potions Master? Are you really ready to be the son of the dungeons bat? With all the consequences?"

There was no answer, only the boy returning to sobbing just the more into his shirt, and he sighed. Yes, he was ready, as was the boy as it seemed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Do you think he's alright?"

"I can't imagine. You know how he is with food."

"Or the lack of food, you surely meant."

"Or the lack of food, yes."

There were a few moments of silence between the two Weasley twins. But then –

"Do you think Ginny is alright at home?"

"She's with mum and dad, so yes."

"I wouldn't want to be at home right now. I want to be here when …"

"Yes, me too."

Another few moments of silence were between them. Then -

"Do you think Ron will survive?"

"Snape's with them. If someone will be able to keep them alive, then it's Snape."

"Yes. Do you remember when he caught us in his classroom last year?"

"Jap. I thought our last hour had come."

"Me too."

Again there were a few moments of silence. Then –

"He always kept us safe."

"That he did."

"Even if we annoyed the hell out of him."

"And we've been good at that."

"That we were."

"I'll go down to the dungeons and apologize to him personally if he brings Ron out of this alive."

"Me too."

More moments of silence between the twins followed. Then -

"And he's good at that, keeping us alive."

"That he is. He'll keep Ron alive too."

"Even if our dear brother annoys the hell out of him."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry finally managed to say. "I've never cried so much without a good reason."

"You _had _a good reason, child." Snape answered, shoving the child away a bit again so he was able to look the boy over. "Are you ready to go back to the classroom? I believe the potion that might help your eyes is finished and I would like to have you safe on your mattress rather than here on the sofa then. It might be that you will fall asleep after I administered it."

The truth was that he wasn't ready to leave the boy alone right now, that he wanted to have the boy in his presence right now, but at the same time he knew that he had to have a look at the others too, even though most of them had been laying down to take a nap.

"Alright." The boy said, untangling himself from his arms, his pale face blushing for a moment.

"Keep your eyes closed." Snape growled. "In the classroom the candles and torches are all burning. I will lead you." He too stood and started to lead the boy towards the door. He however paused for another moment increasing the grip he had on Harry's shoulder to keep him from walking on.

"And Harry." He started, looking down at the teen. "Truly think it over. If you mean it, if you _really _are ready to be the evil dungeon bat's son, if you really want this, with all the consequences, then I am ready to brew a special potion to make it permanent, to make it true. But for this potion, you will have to be absolutely sure, and you will have to be ready for this – or it wouldn't work."

"I _am_ already sure." The boy quietly said. "To have someone who cares was all I ever wanted. To have a family is all I ever wanted. And you do. Care, I mean. You have already given me more than aunt Petunia ever had. I trust you."

He stood there, his eyes on the boy that looked sincere, but then he gave a curt nod and continued leading him towards the classroom, more stiffly than before to cover his own confusing emotions. The boy had given him his answer, and an answer that was – reasonable and genuine. The boy had clearly stated what he wanted, what he needed, probably for the first time in his life had he told an adult what he wanted, what he needed – _him_.

The classroom was quiet upon their return. Most of the students were still sleeping, Longbottom … _Neville_, for Merlin's sake … just waking up at the moment they entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom." Snape drawled, leading Harry towards his mattress. "Do me the favour and watch over your friend for a moment while I get the potion needed for his eyesight."

He sharply turned on the spot the moment he had the boy sitting safely on the mattress and went into the laboratory.

He took the small cauldron he had needed for brewing this special potion from the stove and dipping his finger into the dark blue liquid he tested its colour, its consistence, how it smelled, and finally how it tasted. Only then he tilted the cauldron and filled some of it into a vial with a pipette.

He hesitated for a moment before going back into the classroom where Harry waited for him, doubt suddenly gripping him for a moment. Had he really done the right thing? Promising the boy a home? And a family? Would he even be able to really care for the child? Forever? However long forever would be? Would he be able to give the boy all that he needed? Would he … and what if the boy died? If he now claimed him as his son, if he really brewed the potion and adopted him, what would happen if the boy died? Would he be able to handle the boy's death if he …

Well, it didn't matter.

The bonding already had started and if the boy died, he would feel the same, never mind if he had adopted him or not. And it didn't matter if he was unsure or not, because he knew that he was ready. He was ready to acknowledge that child as his son. No one wanted this child, so he would claim him as his.

His son. For a moment the thought startled him, but it was gone as soon as his doubts had been gone.

The child had no one and he was ready to take him.

The child had no one and he was ready to be taken by him.

Finally turning he went back to the classroom, casting his gaze once more over the area. Vincent was awake too meanwhile, sitting beside Harry, and for a moment he narrowed his eyes at them. He didn't think that Vincent would harm the smaller Gryffindor, but he knew the animosity between them, and he feared for a moment that the situation might go out of hands. But then he huffed – as if the situation itself wasn't already out of hands.

He dropped onto one knee in front of the boy he was about to take as his son, piercing him with his dark eyes for a moment, but then he lifted his hand and placed it onto the bony shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"I think it would be wise if you laid down for this, Harry." He said, turning the boy until he sat with his back towards him and then pulling the boy's upper body down until he lay with his head in his lap. "I want you to keep your eyes close, I will open them to administer the potion. Just try to relax. The potion won't hurt. It has cooled down, but it won't be cold. I will administer one drop of it into each eye."

The boy nodded, his muscles still tense, not able to relax and he could feel the fear radiating off the child. He didn't want to have the child so frightened, he didn't want to cause him such fear, and he didn't want to … well, it had to be done, and gritting his teeth he reached out to open the boy's left eye with his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the startled flinch, ignoring the boy's muscles tensing even more, and he let a drop of the potion fall from the pipette and into the boy's eyes.

A startled cry from the child made him releasing Harry's eyelid and placing his cool hand halfway over the pale forehead and halfway over the now tightly shut eye.

"Hush, child." He quietly said, running his thumb over the boy's brow. "Breathe. Just release your breath and try to relax."

Well, the boy did, slowly releasing the breath he had been holding before taking another shuddering breath and holding it for a moment before releasing that one too.

He opened the boy's other eye, knowing that the sooner they got this over with, the sooner the boy would feel better and he quickly let another drop fall into this eye too, his teeth still gritted and then placing his hand over this eye too for a moment when the boy shut it tightly after once more giving a startled yelp away.

"Alright, child." He whispered, not able to keep his traitorous thumb from running over the boy's brow, noticing the slight film of perspiration that meanwhile covered the pale face. "It is over, child. Just release your breath once more and try to relax. You will be quite fine. We are finished here."

He watched Harry releasing his breath, taking a few more shuddering breathes before his breathing finally settled into a calm and easy one.

"That's it, child." He said, his traitorous thumb still running over Harry's brow. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, sir." The boy said, his voice indicating otherwise just as did his entire tense body.

"I beg to differ, child." Snape said, concern still audible in his voice. The boy's pale face still was covered in this fine film of perspiration and even if calm, he could see that the boy forced his breathing this way. He noticed that the boy's hands still were clenched into fists and the teen still pressed his eyes shut tightly.

"I want you to keep your eyes closed for a few moments longer." He said, taking the wet cloth Theodore just now reached him and he nodded his thanks towards the other boy before running the cold cloth over Harry's face, wiping away the perspiration. "Are you in pain?"

"No." The boy quietly answered and he could hear the fear still lingering in the child's voice. "I was just startled."

"Alright." He said, accepting the answer for now. "Are you tired? Sleepy?"

"No." The boy repeated. "Just dizzy … sort of."

"Your eyes as well as your ears are organs you need for your sense of balance and any foreign particle in them can cause your sense of balance to be disturbed momentarily, causing dizziness." He explained, trying to sound comforting. "It will cease in a few minutes."

Harry just wordlessly nodded at him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Albus!" Filius' voice called through the corridor and he stopped and turned around to the smaller teacher that was running towards him. "Albus!"

"What is it, Filius?" He asked, startled, frightened that something might have happened. He hadn't seen Filius in such a state since … well, he actually hadn't seen the man in such a state ever before.

"The dungeons!" Filius gasped out the moment he had reached him. "The wards have changed. We have to go to the dungeons!"

Quickly and without asking any questions Albus turned and followed the smaller professor down into the dungeons, drawing his wand while he did so. Might it really be that the wards had been undone? If there was a change in the wards, then he should have felt it. But then – even though he was the headmaster, Filius was a master when it came to wards. So if anyone besides of him could feel the wards of the castle changing, then it was the charms teacher.

Concentrating onto the castle he had a deep bond with, he for a moment stopped in his hurried steps.

Yes – there indeed was a change. The castle itself felt different. It wasn't the carefully guarded awareness coming from the castle he had felt for such a long time, since he was headmaster of Hogwarts. And it wasn't the gloomy and frustrated self-blame he had felt coming from the castle since the dungeons had been sealed off hermetically either.

It was … he couldn't describe it. It was a strange feeling, nearly a real emotion coming from the castle, deeper than the carefully guarded awareness he barely had felt as a presence in the back of his own awareness over the years. But try it as he might, he just couldn't place a name to it.

But whatever it was – the wards _had _changed, and maybe … just maybe they would be able to get them down, to enter the dungeons, to get them out of there, and maybe before it was too late.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

His stomach pulsated for a moment and his muscles cramped with a sharp flash of pain but Harry had grown oddly used to it by now. He actually was used to it since many years. But it was stronger this time, the pain in his muscles and in his stomach causing him to nearly gasp and he just couldn't relax. It just was impossible.

He knew that it wasn't from the potion. He knew that feeling and he knew that it simply was hunger he felt. But that didn't make it any better. On the contrary, it seemed to get worse with each minute that passed and he finally tried to roll onto his side, to curl into a small ball, hoping that it would help with the pain.

"Harry?" Snape gently asked the moment he noticed that the boy's condition didn't get any better but seemed to get worse only. "Child?"

The boy tried to roll onto his side, probably in the attempt to curl into a ball to ease the pain he seemed to be in and he placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, keeping him from doing so while he shifted his own position so the boy's head would rest more comfortably and more safely in his lap.

"What is wrong, child?" He asked.

"Hurts." The boy answered, forced out between gritted teeth, still trying to roll over onto his side, and his hands grasping the shirt over his stomach in tight fists.

Hunger. Snape thought, gritting his own teeth and breathing out a deep sigh of frustration. He couldn't do much against this, aside from a few potions that would help for now. But they wouldn't help forever.

"A glass of water, Theodore, a muscle relaxing potion and a nutrient potion please." He quietly asked of the boy, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Your muscles are cramping, because of the lack of food." He softly explained, still restraining the boy that had started to lock his muscles, pulling him closer into his lap so he had a better grip at the painfully thin body. "Your metabolism has started to shut down long ago, and your body has started to take energy from your muscle mass in order to keep you alive at all. I cannot do much against that. I will start giving you the nutrient potion in order to get your body some kind of energy. So that way it will cease taking the energy from your muscles, somewhat at least. And for now I will give you a muscle relaxing potion. That will help against the pain. I do not wish to set you on pain reliever right now, but I will do so if we are not able to keep the pain under control."

"Professor?" Came Theodore's frightened voice from beside him and he turned, looking the boy over. Well, Theodore might be one of his abused children, but he never before had been hungry to such an extent. He always had gotten food at least once a day. And seeing the small Gryffindor in such a state, the boy simply was scared.

"Thank you, Theodore." He said, taking the nutrient potion first and turning back to the cramping child in his lap. "Open up now, child. It is the nutrient potion. And don't you dare complaining that it tastes of old socks."

The boy didn't fall for his joke, but he hadn't thought he would anyway, so he simply tipped the small bottle and poured the potion into the boy's mouth, seeing that the child wouldn't release the shirt over his stomach he had gripped in his fists anytime soon.

"Just swallow it, Harry." He ordered, watching the boy trying to get the syrupy potion down, watching him needing a few attempts until he finally had managed before he poured the remaining potion into the boy's mouth as well.

"That's it, child." He said, running his hand over the child's face for a moment. "The muscle relaxing potion will be next." He said, placing that vial too at the boy's lips and carefully tipping it. "It will help within the minute. You will feel better in a moment." He watched the boy swallowing this potion too while he started massaging the thin upper arms, trying to loosen what little muscles were there.

"That's it, child." He repeated the moment Harry had swallowed this potion too, and he continued with running his fingers over the boy's upper arms, carefully so he wouldn't leave bruises on the already so damn fragile limbs, but with enough pressure so the muscles would react to the massage at all. "You will feel better in a moment. Try to relax, think of laying at a beach, or in the grass near a small forest, preferably not the forbidden forest, no one would be able to relax there."

He could feel the boy's tense muscles relaxing underneath his hands and he couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. The boy's breathing became calmer, the lines of pain in his face evened out and his hands finally released the shirt. Not completely, but enough so they just were laying on his stomach.

"Alright." The Potions Master said, knowing they had overcome the worst for now and he lifted the boy's upper body until he rested with his back against his chest, took the boy's right hand and placed the glass of water into the trembling fingers. "That is only water for now, but it will help a bit against the pain in your stomach. I will get you a tea as soon as you are better a bit. Drink."

Well, that had been the first severe cramp hunger caused, the first of many more to come. They would have to deal with them on Harry's part for now and on the other's part later on too. Lifting his eyes off the child in front of him he cast a glance around the classroom and he could see the other students watching them with frightened eyes.

So they all were awake now, and so they all had seen what soon would come over them as well. Maybe it was time to prepare them before it happened, for in one thing Harry had been right – they were not used to it, they didn't know what awaited them. Not that Harry had known the extent of those cramps, he was sure the boy hadn't. Harry had known them to _some_ extent, yes, having had them before, he was sure of that, but he also was sure that they never had been that severe. The boy had been too frightened, too startled for knowing.

Anyway, alone the fact that he _had _known them to some extent, got his blood boiling with fury at those damn muggles that were the child's relatives. No child should know of such cramps caused by hunger in the first place.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had hoped.

He simply had hoped that maybe the wards would allow them through, but again they had used each and every spell they could think of and still it had been in vain, still they had not been able to breach the wards, to go through to those locked in the dungeons, and tiredly he sat down into the chair behind the head table.

He wasn't hungry, not really, at least he had no appetite, but he knew that the students watched him and if he gave in to his misery, to his fear and to his worries, he knew, then the students would follow his example. So he started eating, even if the food he was chewing tasted of dust somehow.

He soon would have to talk to them, he knew.

He soon would have to tell them that maybe they should face the bitter truth, that those students, that those Gryffindors and Slytherins that were imprisoned in the dungeons still, maybe would die, maybe already were dead, at least some of them. But not now.

He would not do so right now. They still had some time left – that at least was what he hoped.

He didn't believe that there already was one of them dead. The castle's wards hadn't felt like one of them having died. They had felt different, yes, but different from the gloom and darkness of the past days. So no – he really didn't believe that. If only they had been able to go through. If only they had been able to breach those wards today. Severus and Harry and all the others could be sitting with them right now.

But they hadn't been able to and he had to face the fact, as painful as it seemed to him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Your bodies will need energy to survive." He said.

They all were back at the mattresses, sitting there with their blankets around their shoulders or laying over their laps, some of them leaning against the wall behind them, some of them leaning against the mantelpiece, and some of them leaning against each others. Harry, he noticed, was leaning against Vincent, as strange as it might seem, but the much larger boy simply had pulled the small Gryffindor against him the moment he had released him to get some warm tea with honey for all of them.

Well, he had no objections against it. If they leaned against each other, they shared their body temperatures and that for kept each other warm while at the same time they spent comfort to each other. And Vincent, who was the largest of his Slytherins, having Harry leaning against him surely was not the worst solution. Harry was the weakest of them already while Vincent was still strong and the smaller boy could lean against the larger one without fearing that he would tire him out.

"If your bodies cannot get energy in form of food, it will take energy from other sources, and without an external source such as food, it will take the energy from intern sources, like your muscles, causing cramps, and later on from your organs, causing them to simply fail working sooner or later." He didn't tell them that _that_ would lead to their death in the end, but he was sure that there was no need to, that they all knew this by themselves.

"All of you will have those cramps, sooner or later, and Harry had been the first one." He continued. "Your cramps won't be as severe in the beginning as had been Harry's, as all of you have eaten regularly and properly before this unfortunate mess has happened. Not so Harry who had not had the opportunity of having much food during the holidays with his relatives. That for I will start getting him on the nutrient potion first and I do hope that none of you will accuse him of _anything _because of it. If you do, you will find yourselves in quite some trouble."

He watched the other students nodding quickly. They all had been startled, and they all had started to think differently upon actually _seeing_ what would await them, what their imprisonment would cause. They all had seen the seriousness of the situation and they all finally seemed to realize how important it was that they worked together, even Weasley as it seemed. The boy had watched his friend frightened, and he even now couldn't get his eyes off the smaller Gryffindor. He even didn't object Vincent, a Slytherin he'd always had troubles with, holding Harry in his arms so the smaller boy could lean against him.

"I wish to be informed about each and everyone of you having any cramps, never mind how small they might be." He said. "I won't give you the nutrient potion upon your first cramps, but I will provide you with it the moment they start getting dangerous. I also will provide you with muscle relaxing potions, with calming draughts and pain relievers if necessary. You won't be able to prevent the cramps, no matter what, but it is more imperative than ever that you are drinking as much water as possible. Added to this, I will show each of you how to do a simple massage so you can help each others during a cramp."

Again the teenagers he had in front of him nodded at him, silently and seriously.

He hadn't really thought that the situation would go to this, that they still would be down here at the end of day six. He might have had the possibility in his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have resorted to rations, but he had not truly thought that it actually might _happen_. But here he was. At the end of day six and with seventeen teenagers on his hand which he had to keep alive somehow without knowing how he could manage if a solution wasn't found soon.

"Just encase that the situation will get out of hands and I won't be there to give my support, whatever reason for, I would think it wise to pair you already." He said. "Vincent, I see that you have chosen to taking care of Harry. Are you ready to continue with this?"

"Of course." The boy nodded without hesitation.

"Good." Severus said. "Then do so. Gregory, will you be able to have an eye on Theodore?" Again there was an immediate affirmation and Severus Snape continued, eyeing the students thoughtfully.

"Neville, Are you ready to watch over Draco if necessary?"

He had thought that he would have a fight right then, either the Gryffindor or the Slytherin complaining about not being paired with one of their own house as there still were enough of them left for doing so, but again he was surprised at their willingness to keep this as smooth and as easy as possible.

And well, in the end he had paired Vincent with Harry, Gregory with Theodore, Neville with Draco, Ronald with Hermione, Blaise with Parvati, Millicent with Tracy, Pansy with Daphne and Seamus, Dean and Lavender together. Each pair having a strong part as well as a weak part, each pair having one who would be able to take the lead if necessary and he was rather satisfied with the situation. Some of them he had mixed together, regardless of their houses while he had kept others together. Some of the pairs held girls as well as boys, and some of the pairs he had not mixed concerning their gender, depending on what he knew about them in the first place.

He had mixed them together to the best of his ability and knowledge, and none of them had complained about the pairings.

They would be able to keep each other alive as long as possible even if he would die before them. He didn't intend on dying before them, even if he would rather die himself than letting those children die, but at the same time he knew that they all needed him until the end, whichever end that would be. He however couldn't guarantee that and so he had taken preparations. Just in case.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the insufferable, disobedient child  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	13. the insufferable, disobedient child

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He had mixed them together to the best of his ability and knowledge, but none of them had complained about the pairings. _

_They would be able to keep each other alive as long as possible even if he would die before them. He didn't intent to die before them, even if he would rather die himself than letting those children die, but at the same time he knew that they all needed him until the end. He however couldn't guarantee that and so he had taken preparations. Just in case. _

**Chapter ****thirteen**

**Day s****even – Sunday****, eighth of September**

**The insufferable, disobedient child**

Narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to one side he watched Harry closely, nearly blinking at him stupidly – a thing that actually had him worried. Severus Snape never blinked stupidly.

And yet – right now he did.

"Which year exactly will you find yourself in if you add 321 years to the year 1471, Harry?"

Well, the outcome was the same – the boy just looked at him, blinking, then at his fingers, still blinking, but his confusion growing, back at him, his confusion turning into frustration, and finally back at his fingers still frustrated, as if he were frustrated over the fact that he didn't have enough fingers for adding 321 years to the year 1471.

Well - the boy simply only couldn't concentrate because he was hungry, he told himself, because surely a fourteen year old could add 1471 and 321 together.

"Maybe it will help to write the problem down at a parchment to solve it." He suggested, but he was met with another confused blinking from the boy, as if he couldn't understand how _that_ would be of any help, before Harry finally bent over to retrieve a parchment from his book bag. He watched the boy scribbling the numbers down, blinking at them just as stupidly as he had blinked at the boy earlier, a moment ago, and then …

Walking over he watched the boy drawing short vertical lines onto the parchment and he again blinked at the boy stupidly, unable to actually tell him to stop. He had written the number 1471 at the top of the parchment and he had scribbled the number 321 underneath. And now he was drawing those lines at the middle of the parchment.

What was that blasted boy doing, for Merlin's sake? And it had started so easy – with a lesson about the ultimate healing potion being brewed for the first time in the year 1471 and for the last time 321 years later.

**Flashback**

_"Well, Marvin Man Doran's __first attempt of brewing this potion, that had caused his own death in the end, had been in the year 1471, but he hadn't been the last one who had tried brewing an ultimate healing potion. The last one had been Warden Man Doran, actually a descendant of Marvin Man Doran who had found the potions journals from his ancestor, 321 years later."_

_"Then he tried that potion … well, somewhere around 1700 or 1800."_

_"Between 1700 and 1800 there is a time span of hundred years, and Warden Man Doran already had been ninety years old when he tried that potion. He didn't die because of old age, even if he had not been a young man anymore when he had died, but – just like his ancestor – of one of his cauldrons exploding. So, care to get a closer date?"_

**End flashback**

After twenty of those lines the boy started over underneath them.

Did he really intent to draw 321 lines onto that parchment and then count them?

"What …" He started, not able to keep his confusion out of his voice. "What exactly are you doing, child?"

"Uhm …" The boy made, looking up at him, blinkingly. "Trying to find out when Warden Man Doran brewed that potion?"

"No, I mean – what exactly are you doing with those lines?"

"Uhm …" The boy again made, looking at the lines he had drawn on the parchment so far and then looking back at him. "Well, if I … I mean … that is …"

"Did you ever learn how to solve an arithmetic problem?" He asked, his confusion growing at the boy's lack of understanding.

"Uhm … no …" The boy quietly said, looking at the parchment rather than at him.

"You are not serious." Snape said. "What have you done during primary school?"

There was a pause during which the boy paled even more than he already was. Then –

"I've _never been_ there, alright?" The boy suddenly jumped up, glaring at him for a moment and then the boy turned and left the classroom, nearly running into his office, leaving a startled Potions Master and a confused class behind who stared after him in shock, frozen to the spot, some of them blinking just as stupidly as he had earlier. But then Snape leaned his hands onto the desk the brat had been sitting at a moment ago and let his head fall forwards.

How stupid was he?

The boy had been neglected and abused, starved – was it really a wonder that he had not been to primary school? And honestly, suddenly a lot of things made sense to him.

Potter – _Harry_! For Merlin's sake!

Harry had been able to read and to write, but to written instructions he always had been slower than the rest of the students in his year and his handwriting had been – well, not just untidy but nearly incomprehensible in the beginning. Not like the handwriting of a child facing his fifth year of education, but his first.

Of course he couldn't have _known _about the boy not attending primary school, but now knowing the boy's history, it was a possibility he _could_ have thought of. The boy's abuse never had become known after all, and if the boy had attended primary school, then there surely would have been one or another teacher who would have noticed the signs. And he doubted that a seven year old child would have managed to hide them as well as Harry did now with his fourteen years.

With a sigh he straightened up.

"Continue the discussion." He calmly said. "I will rejoin at a later point." And then he strode out of the classroom as well, following the boy into his office, easily finding him sitting on the floor in the corner where he had been sitting only days before, after he had told the class about the nightmares he and Theodore had.

Again, just as he had done back then, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of the boy, watching him for a moment before he gently reached out and placed his fingers underneath the teen's chin, lifting his head. With his other hand he gently ran his thumb over the boy's cheeks, wiping away the tears that ran down the pale cheeks.

"You have been alone for long enough, child. Would you care to enlighten me as to why you think you deserve to be alone with your grief still?" He asked, closing his eyes for a short moment. He had never been prone to giving comfort but in the light of recent events it was left to _him_ to pick up the broken pieces of this child's life.

"I didn't mean to upset you." He quietly said. "And neither am I about to blame you."

"I know." The boy murmured between his tears.

Snape's fingers curled with surprising strength and gentleness around Harry's cheek before the Potions Master narrowed his eyes at him, and Harry looked surprised at how much emotions he saw in the Professor's dark eyes.

"What happened?" He simply asked then, leaving it open for the boy to tell him what had happened so that he hadn't been to primary school, or what had happened so he had learned reading and writing without attending any school in the first place. He couldn't imagine the boy's aunt having the patience to teach the boy reading and writing, but somehow the boy _had_ learned it, and he couldn't help wondering how.

There wasn't an answer for a long time and Snape seated himself at the floor beside the boy, showing him that he wouldn't leave him alone right now. He would not simply give up. It might be that they died down here, but while they lived, he would do whatever he could to help them, never mind with being hungry, having cramps, nightmares, or simply needing someone to heal their scattered minds.

The boy sitting on the floor beside him made a sound in the back of his throat, an odd sound that startled the Potions Master and he could see the teenager recoiling before folding in on himself, hugging his arms around his chest while the green eyes seemed to express all the feelings the boy couldn't voice or show and Snape finally snapped, resting a strong hand on the brat's bent back.

But then –

"I've been to pre-school." The boy quietly started. "For a few months or something like that. But I often missed a day or a week because I've been sick or because uncle Vernon had … well … and so aunt Petunia simply kept me at home at one point or another. Once the teacher had called aunt Petunia to get me from school because I've been ill, but I haven't been ill, I just had not had something to eat for a few days. But I couldn't tell that to him. However, at that point aunt Petunia kept me at home all the time. She feared the teachers would find out. She told them that they had brought me to a school for sick children or something like that, I don't know for sure."

"And in pre-school you rudimentary have learned how to read and to write." Snape simply stated. "So that was the reason you have been able doing so when you came to Hogwarts. And that was the reason you always have been slower with written instructions or that your handwriting was a mess."

"Yes." The boy said. "But it was better that way anyway. Staying at home meant less beatings."

"How so?" Snape asked, wondering what the boy meant. To his information so far Harry had been beaten at home, not at school.

"Aunt Petunia wouldn't beat me like uncle Vernon did. She only made me doing chores." The boy answered with a sigh. "But at school, being better than Dudley, it was just as dangerous as being a complete idiot. I always had to be careful so I wouldn't be better than Dudley but wouldn't be stupid enough so the teachers called on aunt Petunia to come to school because of it. And that wasn't easy as Dudley is so stupid it is nearly impossible to beat him with it."

For a moment Snape couldn't help smirking, imagining the stupidity of Potter's cousin, but then he sobered quickly. It wasn't funny, it was far from being funny. Turning slightly he once again placed his fingers underneath the boy's chin and gently turned his head so he had to look at him.

"What happened when you did better than your cousin at school, Harry?" He quietly asked, already knowing the answer.

"My uncle would beat me and lock me in my cupboard and aunt Petunia wouldn't let me eat anything for days." Harry quietly replied, trying to look down. But Severus didn't let Harry break eye contact as he continued.

"I do understand much better now, child." He said. "And I do thank you for sharing this information. Actually, I think you have been blocking your magical - and your educational abilities for so long that you do it unconsciously now. Might it be that you – unconsciously – are trying to replace your cousin with Ronald Weasley? Because your standard is much around his, just always a tiny bit lower."

Shrugging his shoulders Harry finally managed to look away and Snape let him.

"I think you are much more powerful and intelligent than you have willingly let yourself be." He said, hoping that the teen would take his words to heart. "Even if I always told you otherwise throughout the past three years, you are not stupid. And I want you to remember, I _do _care for you, and I will never, absolutely never, punish you for doing your best, no matter if it is much better than even_ I _can do. That is a promise, son, and I always keep my promises!"

Son!

At that one word Harry fell completely silent, his throat feeling scratchy suddenly and his voice, he was sure, had abandoned him. A hesitant hand pushed through his hair and Harry tried to calm himself. His breathing was coming faster and he knew that soon he would start crying – again!

Startled, Harry yelped when Snape suddenly moved his arms around his shoulders in a strong but careful grip as he pulled the wizarding child to him, the grip around the thin and bony shoulders tight, and only when the boy relaxed into the embrace, calmed down bit by bit, did Snape relax his arms, loosening his grip without letting the boy go entirely. The child's head was nestled under his chin and his worry just increased. The teen felt too small and slight in his arms, more like a small child than like the teenager he was, and it was a long time before the older wizard released the child completely.

"Are you feeling better now?" He quietly asked. He didn't let it show, but he was angry, very angry. Not at the child however – for once as it normally always had been this child he had been angry at – but at the child's relatives, at the child's aunt and uncle. And he promised himself, again, that if they made it out of this, then they would pay for what they had done to a wizarding child, to any child.

He had never been a man prone to hope and only in his very darkest moments, when he had been sure, when he had _known_, that he might die at any moment, had he indulged himself into believing that everything would turn out well, but now … now he couldn't help hoping, hoping that everything would turn out for the best so he simply could take Harry into his home, so he simply could give the blasted brat what he never before had gotten from anyone.

Still there were a few more moments of silence between them, the boy only nodding at him, before Snape continued.

"Are you ready to go back so we can solve this arithmetic problem of yours together?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It actually was so _easy_, solving arithmetic problems, and he wondered why he never had thought of solving them the way Snape had shown him after they had come back to the classroom and Snape had seated himself at the table beside him, explaining to him how he could do it.

Well, Snape had said that – if one didn't know how to solve them, then it wasn't easy to find out about this way alone, that a child normally learned this way of solving arithmetic problems in primary school – which he hadn't attended. And as he never had learned that way of solving those problems, he had done them the only way he could have thought of – namely drawing those lines and simply counting them together.

And Snape had even said that he would give detention to everyone who dared giving him, Harry, troubles because he never had attended primary school, including _him _and for a moment he had wondered how he would give himself troubles because of this. But then – well, he always had blamed himself for stuff. As it seemed, Snape knew him rather well meanwhile and somehow he didn't know if this was a good sign or a bad one.

Well, but then Draco had shaken his head and had said that he never would have imagined him, Harry, not having attended primary school if he hadn't said so, had asked where he had learned all the other stuff they needed at Hogwarts and were taught at primary school normally. None of them had given a scathing remark or something like that.

And now that Snape had shown him what exactly he could do with numbers he actually wondered if he shouldn't drop divination and chose arithmancy instead. It really had been so easy and – silently, he didn't want to get detention after all – he _had_ blamed himself for being so stupid in the first place.

**Flashback**

_"You have the number 1471." Snape said, simply turning the parchment over. "Write it down."_

_He did, writing the number down onto the parchment._

_"The number you have to add is 321. Write it underneath so that the last numbers are directly underneath each other. Always do it that way so you won't get confused, that is important."_

_Well, he again did as Snape had told him, writing the second number underneath the first one so that the one of 321 was directly below the one of 1471 and so on._

_"Good." Snape said. Taking a pencil from his robes and Harry nearly gaped at him. He never before had seen Snape writing with a pencil instead of a quill and ink. He watched Snape drawing vertical lines between the numbers, separating them. "Those last numbers are the units, the seven and the two are the tens, the four and the three are the hundreds and the one here is the thousands. See that you always write the units, the tens, the hundreds and the thousands below each other."_

_Harry nodded at the Potions Master, wondering why the man was so patient and why he explained it so well to him. Well, he surely would make a mistake with this one, he always did, and then Snape wouldn't be so patient anymore._

_"Now you simply add them together." Snape said. "One added to one is what?"_

_"Uhm … two." Harry answered, not understanding why Snape asked this. It was clear that one and one was two. Everyone knew this, even he. He needed the entire …_

_"So you write the two underneath both tens. What is two added to seven?"_

_"Nine." Harry answered, writing the two below the two ones, still not understanding. He did not need the __…_

_"Exactly." Snape said. "And now you simply write the nine below the tens. What is three added to four?"_

_"Seven." Again Harry answered after writing the nine down where it – obviously – belonged to._

_"Correct. Write it down below the hundreds." Snape said and he did so. "Now, you hove no number below the first one from 1471 and for now we simply fill this space with a zero. And what is it if you add nothing to one?"_

_Well, he already had written the one below the one and the zero and Snape actually smirked at him. At him! Snape! Snape actually smirked! And not in his normally evil way but nearly as if – _

_But surely Snape couldn't be proud of him! Not over such a simply thing he had …_

_Well, Snape actually was proud at the brat._

_Harry might be fourteen years old, but he never had been to primary school and even pre-school he had visited for a few months only. And yet the boy seemed having understood the concept as to how he best solved a four-digit arithmetic problem. Reaching his pencil towards the boy he continued._

_"Take this so you can correct eventual mistakes you make. And now try to add __2342 to 5357."_

_Well, the boy definitely had – somewhere along the way from his sixth month of pre-school to his fourth year of Hogwarts learned how to write four-digit numbers, however he had managed it, maybe trial and error, and suddenly the thought struck him that during Harry's first year his cauldron mostly might have exploded because of the wrong amount of ingredients. Maybe if the boy had addressed him with his problem, they could have avoided that. _

_But then – how should Harry have managed addressing him with this? He had made the boy's potions lessons a living hell since lesson one. He never had given the boy a chance in the first place. And even if Harry would have dared – would he, Snape, had taken the problem seriously? Would he actually have taught the boy how to do math? Or would he not rather have sneered at him? Reprimanded him for his stupidity?_

_The lack of scratching from the pencil over parchment made him looking down and he frowned. _

_7699_

_That was correct, and Harry had done this one by himself, looking up at him now, questioningly, expectantly, nearly even scared, and he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. _

_"That is correct." He said, allowing himself another smile. "This way you can add as much numbers together as you want, never mind how many digits they have. Try 1253, 14312 and 54432."_

_Well, this time he watched the boy writing the numbers below each other and he could see the insecurity Harry displayed now, that there were three numbers to add, not being sure for a moment if it would be as simple as with two. He didn't interfere however, wanted to know if Harry would manage on his own. And the boy did, the result was correct._

_"Absolutely correct, Mr. Potter__, well done." He said, not able to keep the pride out of his voice and the boy gave him a tentative smile in return at the praise, for it was high praise coming from him, Snape, and the boy knew it as well as did he. "And I will take your new ability as a new standard when it comes to handling the amount of potions ingredients you have to use in your potions. So be warned, I do know now that you can add."_

_He watched the boy for a while longer, allowing the boy watching him at the same time, and he wondered how Petunia could have rejected this boy so much. And he knew that the woman had. Even though most – if not all – of Harry's physical scars were because of that … that animal … didn't mean that the worst damage had been done by him too._

_Affection – no, he didn't dare using the word 'love' – but affection of any kind, warmth, praise – as rare as it might be –__, care of any kind, was vital in the upbringing of a healthy and care-free child, even he knew that. But Harry had gotten none of those things while growing up. The physical abuse at the hands of his uncle was despicable in itself, but the neglect on his aunt's part was just as bad, if not even worse than that, because any child craved the affection and the care of a parental figure. _

_And if a child had a parental figure who actively abused him while the other parent just stood by and watched on, did nothing while even spoiling another child with love and warmth and food at the same time, that was just sickening._

_And of course Harry never had said anything, because in all of his experiences, any complaint only would be dealt with harshly, even brutally._

_"Never again, child." He finally said, simply placing his hand onto the boy's shoulder. "You will never have to be there again and you will never have to fear asking for something – and even if it is only how to solve an arithmetic problem." He placed the fingers of his other hand underneath the boy's chin and gently pulled Harry's head up so that he could look directly into those green eyes. "And that is a promise." He added.  
_

**End flashback**

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Soft sobbing got Snape out of his slumber close to midnight and he lifted his head from the journal he had written in earlier. He really should lay down if he was so tired that he fell asleep upon his work. But it simply had been important, writing down the day's events, how the potion he had used on Harry's eyes yesterday had started to work, that Harry never had been to primary school, that he had started to teach him math. That Draco had been very helpful in this, that Pansy had suffered from her first breakdown and that they were running out of none-poisoning ingredients for their – _'soups'_.

But that day had been so full of activities, of chatter and of – blinking he realized that the day had been full of normal day life, full of normal things like conversations, like learning, teaching, games, full of even laugher and full of tears. Obviously they had started to go into a routine they all seemed comfortable with, and obviously they all …

Well, they lived down here.

They actually _lived _down here.

Another sob caused him to look over the children and he easily could make out Miss Granger, Hermione, sobbing, laying on her mattress beside Ronald Weasley that was her partner, the boy sleeping on peacefully.

Sighing he got off his desk and went over to the girl, going onto one knee beside her and softly placing his hand on her shoulder he quietly said her name. He didn't know how she would react and he didn't want to startle her too much. He knew the reactions of all his Slytherins, but with the Gryffindors, he would have to learn theirs.

"Come over to your – common table." He said, getting off the floor beside the girl to give her some space. He went over to the mantelpiece and poured tea into two cups. The one thing that would not run out for another week. He added honey to the one for the girl and brought them over to the group of tables the children had brought together at one point or another during the past days.

"Have you been wakened by a nightmare, child, or have you been unable to sleep at all?" He asked, shoving the cup of tea with the honey towards the girl that now sat at one of the chairs and he seated himself beside the girl.

"I've had a nightmare." The girl answered, reaching out for the cup.

"What happened?" He simply asked.

The girl looked at him startled for a moment, but then she sighed, taking a sip of the warm tea.

"I've dreamed of my parents." She finally said. "At first everything was normal, my father had been in his dental surgery and mum had been at home, cooking. But suddenly my father had been in a cave, searching for old skeletons, even if he isn't an archaeologist. And mum had been in the kitchen and suddenly there hadn't been any food there and she couldn't go out to buy something. She tried the telephone to order something, but it didn't work either. And dad too couldn't get out of that cave and he suddenly realized that all the skeletons had died because of lack of food."

"You are aware that in your dream you simply have projected our situation upon your parents, child?" Snape asked, placing a comforting hand onto the again sobbing girl's shoulder.

"Yes." Miss Granger said between her quiet sobs. "It was horrible anyway."

"Our situation _is_ horrible, Hermione." Snape said. "No one can deny that. And it is normal that in your dreams you are working those horrors over. If you wouldn't you would go crazy sooner or later. We need our dreams. Sleep without dreaming would give us no comfort in the long run. I know that it is frightening, but it is necessary. Maybe you want to start writing a journal before you go to bed? That would help with your fears."

"How so?" The girl asked unsurely and it was clear that she didn't want to because she didn't want to acknowledge her fears.

"If you write your fears down in the evening before you go to bed, then it will be the first step in working them over in your mind. Your dreams won't be so violent then as the process of working them over already has started on the paper." He answered.

"But I don't want to write about it." The girl admitted after a moment of silence. "It is bad enough to think about it during the day."

"I do know that acknowledging your fears is a difficult thing, Hermione." Snape answered. "But it is necessary. We all have the same fears as have you. And we all have to acknowledge them because only then they will be less frightening. It might not work, but it is worth a try as it mostly does. Simply take your potions copybook and start the journal."

"But …"

"The potions we will be brewing down here due to the schedule your classmates have worked out, you simply may copy them on a parchment and the moment we are out of here I will get you a new copybook for the subject I am teaching." He said, interrupting the girl's protests. "And seeing as you surely won't be able to go back to sleep right now, you might consider starting right now with simply writing down your dream. I am sure that this way it will not repeat itself for at least tonight when you go back to sleep later."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

At one point during the past half an hour while she wrote down her dream, she looked over at Professor Snape who had gone back to his desk, writing on his own papers. Only that the man wasn't really writing but watching the others that were sleeping, especially Harry, she noticed, and he was looking very tired and worried, and somehow – more human than she ever had seen him and she started to realize that the black clad man actually cared deeply, that the dark and tough man actually seemed to like - no, to _love _Harry.

Well, she didn't better say this sentence aloud, she knew, or she would be in really, really serious trouble then.

A few days earlier, she never would have believed anyone who would have told her about such a thing, a caring Snape, a Snape that was ready to take Harry in, _Harry _of all people! Who explained things to them patiently and who didn't snap at them, even with all their nerves already strained. But now she saw it with her own eyes and it was such a strange and foreign thing that she would need a few days more to really understand it. Snape caring for them, even the Gryffindors. Snape caring for Harry especially.

It had felt strange, using Miss Granger's given name, but slowly he got used to using the students' first names – not entirely, but somewhat at least, sometimes. And he simply had felt it necessary in this situation. That girl too was no one who had caused any troubles so far. None of them had, he had to admit - aside from Ronald Weasley, and out of jealousy. But he had promised Harry that he would not hold it against the redhead and as long as Weasley behaved in future, and he would keep his promise.

Walking into his office he noticed that the girl had gone back to her mattress and now – apparently at least – was sleeping much better than she had before and he was satisfied.

Harry awoke at one point in the middle of the night, all sweaty despite the coldness down here. Well, he hadn't been able to take the dreamless sleep tonight and he noticed that he would not get anymore sleep right now anyway. So he left his mattress and went to a corner in the classroom where he sat down on the cold stone floor, not wanting to wake Crabbe, Vincent, with his restless movements at one point or another.

He leaned on the wall behind him and closed his eyes, shivering slightly in the cold dungeons air and at the cold stony wall touching the back of his damp shirt, but immediately the flashbacks in his mind were back again. The feeling of being unwanted, the fear of being rejected sweeping over him and it was then he realized that he was never going to be loved. He would always be the Bloody Boy Who Lived, no matter what he did to change that image.

Quickly he reopened his eyes. He didn't want to feel that right now. He didn't want to have those flashbacks.

Snape had promised him that he would care for him, and he believed the man, as strange as it was. Snape caring for him, Potter. Snape of all people. He still couldn't grasp that thought entirely yet. But Snape had promised. And Snape had said that he wanted him. In his own sarcastic and strange way Snape had said that he wanted him – even if the thought caused him a headache as Snape had phrased it. But he wanted him, had even offered him a family, that he would be his father, that he would brew a potion to make it permanently. Would it be some kind of … adoption potion? Does such a potion even exist? Did Snape even have the ingredients he needed for this potion? Wouldn't Snape need the consent of the ministry or something like that? Or the Dursleys?

He shuddered at that thought. He didn't want to go to the Dursleys to ask them. He didn't want to go back to them at all.

He had not lied to the Professor when he had told him that he already was ready for this. That he was ready to be the – grumpy, old Potions Master's, the dungeon bat's son. He was ready, as strange as it was. Ron probably wouldn't understand it, but he wanted this. Snape had given him already so much more than he'd ever had. Even if the man had made his potions lessons a living hell since he first had set his foot into the man's classroom.

But that was the past. And he had learned soon enough to be flexible, to adapt to new situations. And Snape did care, what was all he ever had wished for, that someone cared.

He didn't notice his eyes dropping close and he didn't notice sleep capturing him once more.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Of course Harry had managed to wake up and to leave his mattress at exactly the time he was not present in the classroom, even if it only had been ten minutes he had left to get his office in order before going to sleep himself and with a sigh he went over to the wall the boy was leaning against, shivering in his sleep at the cold dungeons air. Stupid child!

Lowering himself onto one knee in front of the idiotic boy he noticed that he was back to sleep already, but he also noticed the still damp shirt and the barely audible but nevertheless unsettling wheezing the boy's chest gave away with each breath. Of course the boy shivered with cold if he was sitting here in the cold dungeons air, wearing a damp shirt. The boy probably had woken from a nightmare.

His breathing had been difficult in some ways since that potion had exploded. He was sure that the boy's lungs had not been affected too badly, that he had gotten the healing potion for the boy's lungs into him quickly enough. But even so, his breathing had been more difficult since then and he knew that sitting here in the cold dungeons air surely wouldn't do any good to the child's already weak lungs.

Gently curling his fingers around the boy's upper arm he called out his name, started to pull the boy off the cold floor, away from the cold wall in his back.

"Wha'?" The boy asked in his sleep dazed state, barely opening his eyes.

"How eloquent, Mr. Potter." The Potions Master drawled. "Idiot child! Sitting here in the cold while wearing a damp shirt. You could have gotten me from my office. It isn't as if I could go away so far, you know? Next time you wake from a nightmare you will get me, you disobedient little brat."

At his words the boy gave a small smile away in his half-sleep while allowing him, Snape, to lead the boy back to the mattresses, and he had to admit, despite the harsh words he had chosen, his voice had lost its touch. It _must _have lost its touch if the Gryffindor could smile at his words. Impertinent brat!

Gently shoving Potter down onto the mattresses he lay down himself, opened the buttons of the boy's damp shirt and then pulled the shirt off the boy's small frame. If he slept with this damp shirt on him, he only would catch a cold. So pulling the boy that was already back to sleep close into his arms he threw Harry's and his own blanked over both of them so he could keep the small body warm with his own. He knew that some of his colleagues would protest now, but he didn't care. They were not in their situation and they would have no right to judge anything they decided or did, as long as it kept them alive and as healthy as possible.

It was much later when Harry woke again, shifted in his sleep and for a moment he wiggled himself deeper into the warmth that embraced him, a warmth that not only had to do with the temperature, he knew, but with something else as well and he basked in the feeling of safety as deeply as possible, hoping that he somehow could safe this feeling – just in case.

It took him another few minutes, minutes of pure bliss, until he opened his eyes and gave a sigh, his surroundings slowly coming into view and into his awareness and suddenly he noticed what exactly the warm feeling was, one of Snape's arms curling around his upper body and his head resting upon the man's upper arm like on a pillow.

Taking a startled breath he tried to get away, but immediately the grip around his upper body tightened.

"Stop this annoying wiggling and go back to sleep, you insufferable child, it is still too early for being awake." Snape's voice drawled from behind him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Something – or someone – Harry – wiggling in his arms woke him from his sleep and he opened one eye, easily noticing the boy basking in the feeling of being held, knowing that probably the child never before had been held like this and he couldn't help feeling relaxed at the knowledge that finally the boy _was _and that apparently he enjoyed the feeling – as much as he wished the brat would go back to sleep so he himself could do just the same.

A few minutes later however the boy moved in a more startled way and he guessed that he – finally – had woken up completely, realizing in whose arms he lay and he tightened the grip he had on the boy to keep him from getting away.

"Stop this annoying wiggling and go back to sleep, you insufferable child." He growled, opening one eye to look down at the child. "It is still too early for being awake."

"I'm sorry, sir." The boy immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to …"

"Shut up, brat." Snape interrupted before Harry could make a fool of himself. "I pulled you to me last night and you are quite fine right here where you are. You have been much too cold after sitting on the cold floor wearing a damp shirt."

He could tell that the boy wanted to protest but that he was just too tired and that the warmth he offered simply was too beckoning.

"Okay." Was all he heard from the brat before he fell back asleep and he himself closed his eyes again too.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_hi dad  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	14. hi dad

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"Shut up, brat." Snape interrupted before Harry could make a fool of himself. "I pulled you to me last night and you are quite fine right here where you are. You have been much too cold after sitting on the cold floor wearing a damp shirt."_

_He could tell that the boy wanted to protest but that he was just too tired and that the warmth he offered simply was too beckoning._

_"Okay." Was all he heard from the brat before he fell back asleep and he himself closed his eyes again too. _

**Chapter ****fourteen**

**Day ****eight – Mon****day, ninth of September**

**Hi dad**

Coming back to the classroom Severus watched the children for a few moments silently. As it seemed they had found the packing thread he kept on one of the shelves. There were some occasions that he sold one or another potion and if he had to send them he had to make sure that they were packed safely. In a packet wrapped with packing thread. And now the little imps had found this one and were playing ball with it, throwing it through the classroom to each other.

"Alright." Draco said. "I choose truth."

"You're just too scared about what we could make you doing." Theodore smirked at the blond who huffed at the other boy.

"Alright, Malfoy." Weasley, Ronald, started, slowly. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"That's all you can ask, weasel?" Draco blinked at the redhead and he could see the hurt in the other boy's eyes at Draco using weasel instead of Ronald or at least Weasley. Well, he had known that the boy would have a hard time, reintegrating himself into the group after his attack at Harry. "You're disappointing me. And yes, I have."

Severus quickly scanned the present Slytherin girls and upon noticing Tracy going red he immediately knew who it had been the boy, that right now threw the ball towards Longbottom, Neville, had been kissing.

"Truth." Neville immediately said. Well, somehow he had known that the boy would choose _that_.

"Alright, Neville." Draco said. "Is it true that you're in love with Lovegood?"

"Yes." The other boy admitted with a heavy sigh – and a nice blush.

"You're not serious." Weasley, Ronald, said, his eyes large. "She's mental!"

"Dunno." Neville answered. "Sometimes she seems mental, but in the end she always is right somehow. She knows things just in another, in a strange way we can't understand, but in the end she's always right."

"But she's talking in riddles." Seamus shook his head. "No one's able to understand her."

"Dumbledore's talking in riddles too." Neville defended the third year Ravenclaw girl. "And no one understands him either if he's in his antics, but everyone likes him nevertheless."

"Alright, that's an argument." Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "And she's pretty, good choice, Neville."

The boy blushed a deep red, averting his eyes for a moment and Theodore actually had to remind him to throw the ball, what he did then, towards Blaise.

"Dare." The boy said, seemingly being the first one who chose this as they all cheered at that.

"Uhm … well … alright … you go to Professor Snape and ask him if he ever had been in love."

Groaning Severus closed his eyes. _That definitely_ was the _worst_ thing they could … "I don't think that's a good idea." He heard Harry saying and startled he opened them and looked over at the boy.

"And why not? It's a simple dare-question." Neville blinked at the raven.

"Yes, normally it would be, but we're not in a normal situation." Harry said. "Maybe he had _been _in love once and something happened, whatever it could have been, because he isn't married, is he? Well, and with this question we only would hurt him then and we shouldn't do so. None of us knows if we'll make it out of here alive and none of us should do anything that would hurt someone."

"You're right." Theodore said. "Think of something else, Neville."

"Alright … ok … uhm … well … I bet you wouldn't dare waking Professor Snape tonight and telling him that all his shelves in the potions lab broke – the potions vials all laying broken on the floor now."

"Isn't he supposed doing the dare right away?" Gran- … Hermione asked.

"Normally yes." Draco answered. "But Neville is right. Severus would hear it if his potions lab would be destroyed and he wouldn't believe it without the noise."

"Oh … yes." The girl answered, frowning, and he, Severus, couldn't help frowning too. Hermione normally would have been the one thinking of such a thing as missing noise when it came to his destroyed potions laboratory. Yet – she obviously hadn't. He knew that the lack of food would cause lack of concentration sooner or later, but honestly, he had thought that the girl would show signs of this lack rather later than sooner. Obviously he was wrong.

"Ok, I'll do it." Blaise said, smirking and he, Snape lifted his eyebrow. Well, that could be funny, if he had any say in this too – now that he knew what awaited him. The boy threw the _'ball'_ to Harry who sighed.

"Truth." He said and for a moment he could see fear in the boy's eyes.

Yes, Harry was a Gryffindor through and through – when it came to keeping his friends safe, when it came to helping someone who was in trouble. He would go through hell and back if it were necessary to save his friends or anyone at all and he would willingly die if it were necessary to keep someone else alive. But otherwise the boy was rather sly. Yes – Harry would have fit well into his house. It would have taken him, Snape, some time to get used to the fact, but …

"Well …" He heard Blaise starting his question and he could see both boys regarding each other carefully, Blaise apparently wondering if he could ask the question that was on his mind and Harry as it seemed wondering what question Blaise might ask of him. "Well … Professor Snape said he would take you in, and you seemed to be alright with this. I mean, you even looked as if you were afraid he would back out of this." The boy started and he could see Harry going pale.

For a moment he wondered if this thought was so startling to the boy and he wondered if he really had done the right thing, offering the boy adoption, and why the boy had agreed so easily, even had been disappointed upon learning that Draco was his godson, while at the same time the thought of it was so startling to him. But then Blaise continued.

"Well, I wonder, what do _you _think? Are you really sure that you are alright with the Professor taking you in?"

He could see Harry giving a sigh of relief before smiling – _actually smiling_ – at the other boy and he wondered what it had been the boy had feared Blaise might be asking.

"Yes, I am." He listened to the Gryffindor's answer and he couldn't help feeling a strange knot settling into his chest. "I am absolutely sure."

"But why?" Ronald asked, shaking his head. "It's Snape we're speaking of. He's made your potions lessons a living hell since day one. I don't understand, Harry. You've been ill before each and every potions class and on days we've had potions you weren't even able to eat _anything _at all."

"Yes." Harry admitted in a near whisper, averting his eyes and Severus couldn't help feeling the pain the boy felt himself, knowing that he had caused the boy such troubles for three years. "Yes, I have been ill before potions and yes I have been too nervous to eat anything on days we've had potions. But that's past. Professor Snape has apologized and … dunno, maybe he'd just had a wrong view of me, as I had a wrong view of him. He isn't so bad. He does everything to keep us not only alive but as comfortable as possible too. He talks to us and he … well, he's the only adult who ever listened to me, who ever believed me, who never lied to me. He's the only one … I mean, he allowed me to cry all over him and he even held me. Much has changed Ron, and honestly, we haven't been much better anyway, calling him dungeons bat and evil git. We never have tried to see what might be behind his mask."

"As I have never tried to see what might be behind _your_ mask, Harry."

It was at that moment that he finally entered the classroom, stepping behind the boy that was to become his son, that neither had noticed Draco's startled face nor Theodore's and he had to suppress a smile when he saw the startled faces of the nine children that were awake right now, their guilty looks, and again he realized how much he enjoyed tormenting children, Gryffindors as well as Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, even if only his Gryffindors were present right now aside from his Slytherins. _His _Gryffindors! Somehow this thought wasn't so frightening anymore.

Gently he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and took the packing thread ball from Harry's fingers. The imp however did not really look contrite as he looked up at him – so much for the tormenting.

"Truth." He simply said, still looking at the boy, the curled up packing thread they had used as a ball still in his hands.

It took the boy a few moments to curl his mind around the fact that he, the dungeons bat, the evil git, had joined their game, had taken the ball and now had chosen truth, allowing him to ask a question, _any _question, in front of his classmates. But then his shoulders slumped and Severus knew that he had chosen his question, and that it wouldn't be a pleasant question.

"What if we're out of here?" The boy asked. "Right now we're here and none of us knows if we will survive. But what if … what if …" Unable to finish his question the boy trailed off and then averted his eyes and he physically could feel the child's desperation.

"You mean – will I stand to my word the moment we are out of this classroom?" He asked, lowering himself down to one knee beside the boy until he was at eye level with the teenager who looked at him nearly scared. "Yes, it is easy to take someone in, knowing that it wouldn't be for long, knowing that maybe death lies ahead soon to remedy the situation. And yes, your question is very much warranted and I do understand your train of thoughts. You however should know me by now, after three years of having me as your potions teacher. Did I ever give you the impression that I did things I have not thought through? Did I ever give you the impression that I did things I did not want to? Until the end?"

The boy only could shake his head, still not able to give a voiced answer away and he slowly nodded his head. "I too had a picture of you in my mind, a picture that had been wrong, I might add, and I have acted according to this picture, I have allowed this picture to rule over my emotions and to dictate my actions towards you, for what I once again apologize. I should not have caused you so much pain. And to finally answer your question. Yes, I have offered to adopt you, and you will stay my son until the end, whatever end this might be, death down here, or you being old enough to have your own children to present an old and grumpy Potions Master with grandchildren."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said after a few moments of just watching him, smiling at him, even if shyly only and groaning inwardly Snape realized that he liked to see the child smiling, realized that he indeed was about to go soft – or to lose his touch, maybe both. This was not good … this was not good at all … but at the same time he was afraid that something would stop this now, that something would draw a halt to this. He was more afraid that the small smile would stop some day again than about the fact that he was becoming soft.

Throughout all the years living with his less pleasant father, throughout all the years as a spy, and throughout all the years since Lily had died, he had learned all the stages of grief by heart but he never had healed. There always had been another pain, another reminder, another betrayal that had ripped his heart open wider and wider until he simply had built such a strong wall around it that nobody could penetrate to reach him and to hurt him anymore, and all he allowed them to see was a bitter, sarcastic and dark, cold, bastard of a man. A mere shell of the man he would like to be.

Of course it was nice from time to time to deceive himself and to allow himself to think of better times or another world, to dream of someone who would accept him, of someone who would not shy away from him the moment he entered the room, of someone who would not turn his back on him, of someone who would see the man he wanted to be, but he didn't know anymore how to show others the other side of the man that was Severus Snape and somehow he always had known that there never would be such a person. No one could see behind his mask, not even his Slytherins, as well as they knew him, not even they could see him completely.

But somehow Harry could see. Harry, who absolutely never had learned positive interactions between human beings, this child was able to see more than just the shell of the man he wanted to be. He could see the man he already was, not the one he displayed out of fear of being rejected.

Gently he lifted his hand and carded his fingers through the boy's black mop of hair, piercing the child that could see behind his mask with a serious gaze of his own before he got a grip on himself and his eyes came to rest on Weasley. He stood and then threw the ball at the red-haired boy.

Shocked the teen needed a few moments until he was able to stammer a "t-truth" out, his eyes as startled as his voice. Well, he had hoped that the boy would choose this.

"Will you accept your friend's decision in his choice of his elders, Ronald?" He simply asked, his eyes not leaving the boy while one of his hands still rested on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes." Ronald Weasley answered after another few moments he seemed to need to comprehend the situation and to understand the question. "Of course."

"Good." The Potions Master inclined his head curtly. "Then I suggest you end this – silly game, and take the bowls from the shelf. Our … _soup_ … is ready."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Did you really … I mean, I don't want to be so … dunno … I know I'm annoying the hell out of you … but …"

Sighing Severus placed the quill aside and beckoned the boy over. He waited until the child that was so unsure of himself and anything that had to do with himself stood in front of him, his gaze lowered to his knees and he took the boy's wrists and gently pulled him closer until he stood between said knees.

"I guess I will have to say it for another thousand times." He said, gently taking hold of the boy's chin and lifting his head slightly so he had to look at him. "Yes, I did mean what I said, or I would not have said it in the first place and surely not in front of your classmates. And yes, I do want you, or I would not have offered adoption to you in the first place. And no, nothing will change the moment we are out of here. I have thought it through before I offered you this and I do know that it is something that will be permanent. You cannot adopt someone today and discard him tomorrow. So I do know that it will last until either you or I will be dead. You never have had someone who actually wanted you, and your entire life you have learned how unwanted you are, in physical lessons as well as in emotional lessons, and so I do understand your reluctance in believing my words. But can you not at least _try _to believe them?"

"I want to, sir." The boy sighed and looked back at the dirty floor underneath their feet. "But I just don't know how. I want to belief it so badly it hurts whenever I think that such a thing never could happen to me, but I don't know how."

That was a response that somehow warmed within him and he pulled the boy closer even until he could wrap his arms around the thin frame of the child. Someplace within, that had been cold for such a long time warmed by Harry's tone of voice as his former bane of existence said that he wanted to believe Severus. That was something, concerning this particular child it was something important, it was a step in the right direction and Severus silently acknowledged it as what it was.

Watching the child leaving his office, stepping back into the classroom, sighing a sad sigh of somebody who had seen too many things while having too small shoulders to carry them, sighing a tired sigh, he wondered if the child would have a chance ever, if _they _would have a chance or if they would die down here before he could try to help the boy back to life.

Coming back to the classroom Harry saw Ron and Hermione talking quietly together with Neville, Vincent and Gregory, sitting on the tables they had shoved together a few days earlier. For a moment he had to furrow his brows, but then he remembered their given names and he smiled, noticing that he got better in this. Draco and Theodore both were sleeping as well as Lavender, Seamus and Parvati. Dean was reading a book but he could see his eyes dropping from time to time. Millicent, Pansy and Daphne were whispering together, sitting at the group of mattresses, Tracy and Blaise sitting beside them tiredly.

He strolled over to one of the remaining tables in the background and taking his book bag he pulled out another sheet of parchment and his quill. He didn't have to bother with ink as their ink bottles were scattered around on the different desks.

While for an essay he normally got distracted easily, never mind how much he tried to keep focused while sitting at his desk in the common room – by Ron's fiddling with his Quidditch book or by Ginny's talking about the last Quidditch game, by Seamus' theories about the _next _Quidditch game, he right now was able to concentrate on what he wanted to write down, even if the soft whisper of their conversations reached him. He normally wanted to join their conversations and to ask about the Ravenclaws' seeker or the Hufflepuffs' beater, or the Slytherin's keeper – and the next thing he knew, it was too late for finishing his essay but time for bed.

Right now however, he began scratching off words right away, as if they were longing to leap from his fingers through the quill and onto the page. He scribbled and he could ignore everyone in the room as he wrote and wrote and wrote.

A little while later, Harry heard the Potions Master quietly returning to the classroom and sitting down at his own desk, but he didn't stop writing even then and from the occasional sound of a scratching quill, Harry knew that the man was writing in his own journal.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus Snape had been writing for some time now. He had started accounts on what was happening down here, on the children's health, on their remaining potions and potions ingredients, on their emotions and on their decisions days ago now and he would continue doing so until the end. It was important for when Albus found them, never mind if he found them dead or alive still and so he ended each report on what step would be important when they were found – just in case that he wouldn't be present anymore to take care of things – or would be to weak doing so.

Looking over at the boy he worried most about he noticed that Harry had fallen asleep, his arm laying outstretched on the tabletop beside the parchment he had been writing on, his head laying atop his outstretched upper arm, using it as some kind of pillow. The quill lay loosely in the boy's other hand that rested on the other side of the parchment, and he shook his head. If the boy slept in such an uncomfortable position, then he surely would be all achy the next day, something that wouldn't go well together with the hunger cramps the boy already suffered from.

With a silent groan he got off the chair. His own body started to complain, as it seemed, not liking the treatment it had to go through lately, but he shoved it to the background. He had endured worse during his life, he would be able to endure this as well. For a while at least.

When he had come back to the classroom he had spotted Harry sitting at the table, writing, while some others had been sleeping and two groups of children had been conversing quietly. He had been about to go over to Harry at first, to spend some company with him, but then he had decided against it. If Harry had wanted company, then he would have chosen their _'commontable'_ as they called it by now to write on. The boy however hadn't done so, he had chosen the solitary of one of the abandoned desks, what had meant that he had wanted to be alone and he had respected this wish for privacy. They had little enough of that down here.

Coming to a halt beside the table, he couldn't help looking down at the sleeping child for a moment, at the relaxed form despite the uncomfortable position the boy slept in, and at the parchment that lay in front of the sleeping boy and two words practically sprang to his eyes, beckoning him to take the parchment and to read it, two words that made his heart leap within his chest.

'_Hi dad,'_

He stared at those two words, even after he had taken the parchment from between the sleeping child's arms and he simply seemed to be unable to peel his eyes off them. Hi dad. Two simple words, simple letters stringed together, and they nearly had him hitching a breath, had his heart leaping in his chest, had him swallowing past a lump that formed in his throat, had him nearly suffocating. Hi dad. And Harry had used them. Harry, the child that had trusted no adult so far, Harry, who had been abused for his entire life, Harry whom he had hurt so badly for the past three years. This child had used those strings of letters, those two small words. Hi dad.

This child that had gone through so much acknowledged him even yet, even before they had used the potion he was brewing in his laboratory right now, even before the adoption was valid, as his father, as the one person he would be living with, and the amount of trust he could sense between those two simple words nearly made him wanting to slam his fist at the table for all the injustice and all the hurt and pain this particular boy had been through – and would go through if they weren't found and freed soon.

Looking back at the parchment he couldn't help reading those two words once more before reading the rest of what that child had composed.

'_Hi dad,_

_I know it's ridiculous to write this now and I know that you're no one for sentimentalities or such things, but I feel that I just __HAVE to write this, just in case. Well, there isn't much to say at all, we've talked a lot and I'm sure that we'll do so until the end, whatever end it might be, just like you said. But what I wanted to say to you is, thanks._

_It's true what I've said earlier, you're the ONLY adult that ever listened to me, that ever believed me and that never lied to me. You've given me so much more in such a short time than aunt Petunia ever had in thirteen years. You've given me more than just healing, words, hugs and comfort. You've given me hope and a reason to fight until we're out of here, because you've given me a family, and I want to live to HAVE that family, and for that I do thank you. You can't imagine how happy you've made me with this. _

_Maybe I should have listened to the hat, three years ago, and I wonder what it would have been like, if I had been sorted into YOUR house, if I had been sorted into Slytherin. I wonder if that had been a bad thing, or a good one, if it would have made a difference at all. I wonder what you would have been like, if you still would have hated me then, and if, if you then would have acted towards me differently even IF you hated me. _

_Well, maybe I would have lost Ron's and Hermione's friendship then, ok, not maybe but SURELY. And I surely would have missed a lot then, because they've been my first and only real friends I ever had. But on the other hand, I wouldn't have known their friendship then and I surely can't miss something I've never had. And besides – well, Draco, Theo, Vince, Greg and I have become some kinds of friends now anyway, and maybe I would have been friends with them back then too. I don't know._

_However, I just wanted to say thanks to you, and I wanted to apologize. For all the troubles I cause you now._

_I know that it is my fault that you have to deal with me now in such a way. If I were __NORMAL, just like the others, then you would not have to worry about me in such a way to all the worries you now have about this situation to begin with. And I know that if I just had been not so bad, then uncle Vernon would not have had to punish me so often, or if I just would have been STRONGER, then you never would have found out – what also leads to not worrying so much over me added to your worries about the situation._

_So, if I summarize everything, I only can say I'm sorry for all the troubles I cause – again, and thanks for all you've done and for all you're about to do._

_Harry'_

For a moment he didn't know if he should feel affected by the gratitude the boy showed towards him, if he should blame himself for the deep misjudgment he'd had, thinking of the boy as an ungrateful brat, if he should be angry at the brat for this ridiculous self blame, or if he should …

Sighing he shook his head and sat down at the table himself, carefully taking the ink-stained quill from the boy's loose hand. He took another piece of parchment from the boy's book bag, wondering how the child could find _anything_ in the chaos that was said book bag, and dipping the quill into the ink pot he then started to write.

'_Dear foolish child,'_

He wrote, but then he blinked at the line and shaking his head at his own sentimentality, he added another word.

'_Dear foolish child, son,'_

Well, that would do, he thought and he even smiled. It was strange using this term towards the child, but then – it wasn't unpleasantly strange, just strange, and as the boy _would _be his son soon – well, it fit.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was an hour later that he finally shook the boy awake, after he had placed the quill back at the table, atop the parchment he just had written on and after he had folded the parchment Harry had written to shove it into the pocket of his robe. He surely did not do so out of sentimentality, as he easily could have left the parchment until Harry would give it to him, or as he easily could have placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. No – he only did so, because he hadn't corrected it yet and he didn't want it getting lost – or forgotten – before he had covered the blasted miscreant's composure it in red ink.

"It's late, Harry." He said while gently shaking the boy. "Get up, child … no, you can't sleep here at that table … you only would feel stiff and achy tomorrow … up you get, child … that's it … the mattress definitely will be more comfortable … what are you doing, child … no, you won't stay awake now … it's in the middle of the night … go back to sleep … just close your eyes brat …"

Well, never wake a peacefully sleeping child … that much was for sure and next time he would leave the blasted imp to sleep on the table for the entire night, enjoying the stiff and achy muscles the brat would suffer from the next day. What however didn't help him much right now … as the boy –

"Sir?"

"What is it, brat?" He asked with an annoyed sigh.

"What would have been if I had been sorted into your house?" The boy wanted to know, looking up at him sleepily.

"Then you would have been a Slytherin." He growled at the boy, not really sounding annoyed but rather good heartedly.

He could hear Theodore on his other side snickering softly at his response and with a frown he turned towards the other boy.

"One would think that small children such as you brats should be asleep at such an hour." He drawled. "Are you waiting for a bedtime story? Maybe a bottle of milk? And me covering you with your baby blanket?" This time it was Harry who snickered softly.

"Only if I get my comforter." The boy grinned cheekily at him – yes, so much for torturing children – it rather seemed to be the other way round right now, and _them_ torturing _him_.

"Surely you are familiar enough with my person by now that you know you won't be so lucky." Severus Snape the dungeons bat drawled. "I would hide your comforter and let you alone with neither a bottle of milk nor your baby blanket to cuddle with."

"You're mean." Draco's voice piped up and the Potions Master groaned.

"_That _is my job, Mr. Malfoy." He growled. "How else could I ensure having a bit of fun?"

"So, torturing small children such as us is your idea of fun, Professor?" Theodore asked, giving a tired smile away.

"Actually yes – the smaller they are the more fun it is torturing them." Severus smirked.

"Sir?" Came Harry's voice again, and again it sounded too small for his liking. Not tiredly small but scared small, insecure small and he turned towards the teen.

"I would have been able to help you sooner." He simply answered, knowing that the boy would repeat his earlier question. "And never mind my motivations, my view of you or my emotions towards you, do not one second doubt the support I would have given."

"Would you really have known if I had been in your house?" The boy asked in his still so small voice and he wondered – not for the first time – what had caused that particular thought in the child's head. The boy had mentioned in this foolish letter of his that he should have listened to the sorting hat. But – the sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor, not Slytherin.

"I would have known during the first week." He seriously answered. "And I would have taken actions to get you out of the Dursleys' house at once."

"Then I should have let the sorting hat place me in Slytherin." The boy murmured with a sigh that clearly spoke of regret.

Snape had been about to explain once more that he would have done so, never mind his view of him, that in fact as soon as he would have found out his view of him would have changed back then already, just as it had changed right now in their present situation the moment he had found out, but upon the boy's words he stopped mid-thought and blinked at the teen, facing the child he had chosen to be his son, and he couldn't help gripping the small and thin shoulders with both his hands to look at him seriously, piercing him with his dark eyes, not caring right now that he startled the child.

"The sorting hat wanted to place you in Slytherin?" He asked, his voice incredulous, still blinking at the boy that only could give a scared nod away and it took him another few moments to understand the implications of Harry's words.

"Of all the stupid things you have done over the years … Merlin! … you could have been mine …" Snape did not say anything else but simply pulled the still startled child close and wrapped his arms around the skeletal frame. So _that_ it had been what had run through the boy's mind lately. So that it had been what had caused him to ask this question in his letter earlier. So that …

"What foolish notion had caused you to question the sorting hat's decision, child?" He asked a moment later, curiosity taking over.

"Well, in Diagon Alley, when Hagrid helped me getting my school things, he said that Voldemort had killed my parents and then I've heard that he had been in Slytherin and I didn't want to be in the same house as he had been. And on the train I've met Ron and he had been the first friend I've ever had and he had been sorted into Gryffindor."

"Both had been very understandable motivations, Harry and I apologize for questioning your reasoning." Severus said, massaging the boy's neck with his fingers. "It surely must have been very important to you having Ronald as a friend when you never before did have one and it only is logically that you did not want to be in the same house than the Dark Lord, but together with your new friend. I guess the thought of being in the same house as your parent's murderer had been would have been a horrified idea for anyone. And nevertheless – at the thought of what could have been if you had been in my house …"

"I'm sorry." Came the boy's words when he trailed off, not finishing his sentence, words that were merely a sob than actual words and he gripped both the boy's shoulders and held him at arm's length so he could look at him closely.

"Harry, look at me." Severus demanded softly and Harry did as the Potions Master asked of him, looked up at the man and he was startled at how soft and gentle the dark eyes were, those black eyes that normally had been so cold and hard.

"None of this is your fault, child." He said. "Neither could you have known that something good could have come out of it if you had been in my house, nor could you help your gut feeling in the first place that simply told you to do the logical thing back then. Anyone would have chosen the same as have you. You did what you thought was the right thing. I only am glad that I found out now at least." He added, gently running his fingertips over the child's forehead. "And now go to sleep, you insufferable brat. And that goes for the two of you as well. And don't expect a goodnight story or a milk bottle – nor a comforter."

Harry smiled up at him, surprised but not uncomfortable with the man's long fingers brushing over his forehead. He could feel himself slipping into sleep, coaxed by Severus' gentle fingers, and he truly couldn't remember when he had felt more content.

"As long as he doesn't try providing us with nappies …" He could hear Theodore whispering to Draco while the man settled behind him, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him while settling down for sleeping, and he couldn't help smiling.

"Don't!" He heard Draco whispering back. "He'd done that when I was little and it still gives me the creeps."

"You know, Draco, I still do remember how to change nappies." He heard the man smirking. "I could try to re-freshen this particular skill if you are not quiet this instant."

"Good night, Severus." Came Draco's immediate reply.

"Good night, Professor." Theodore's voice answered at nearly the same time.

"Good night, Sir." Harry whispered quietly, smiling to himself.

"Good night, you insufferable brats."

And then there was silence in the potions classroom that was their prison since eight days now, that would be their prison for only Merlin knew how much longer, that maybe would be their prison until death, but that – at the same time – had become some kind of heaven to them too, because here, in this unlikeliest of all places, they had found family, friends and comfort, here, where they never would have expected to find such.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_dear foolish child, son  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	15. dear foolish child, son

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_And then there was silence in the potions classroom that was their prison since eight days now, that would be their prison for only Merlin knew how much longer, that maybe would be their prison until death, but that – at the same time – had become some kind of heaven to them too, because here, in this unlikeliest of all places, they had found family, friends and comfort, here, where they never would have expected to find such._

**Chapter ****fifteen**

**Day ****nine _– _Tuesday****, tenth of September**

**Dear foolish child, son**

Lifting his eyebrow Severus Snape noticed that finally the boy stirred underneath his blanket, finally waking up.

Well, it had been late last night, and well, he _had_ woken them all last night, given them a real fright, but well, they had called for it and in the end of it they all had been able to laugh about it, the soft snickers being heard for longer than an hour only and he had known that most of them would sleep for a bit longer than normally this morning. Or that they would lay down and sleep at one point or another during the day.

**Flashback**

_Harry, Theodore and Draco had just fallen asleep finally and with a smirk he slowly got off the mattress,__ ventured into his laboratory. With determined steps he went over to one of his shelves and then took two vials from one of the higher racks, having had his idea already formed in his head throughout the day. _

_It was an evil plan, and he knew it, one that would startle them out of their pants, but first, he __knew he would be able to keep them from panicking, second, it would be a shock, yes, but a good diversion they would be able to laugh about long after and third – well, they had asked for it and he would have a bit of fun. _

_Casting one last gaze back at the children he smirked, pocketed one of the vials and then dropped the other one before quickly leaving the laboratory and closing the door behind him. Well, none of the children had woken upon the vial breaking on the stony ground._

_"Which imbecile of you was that?" He asked, his voice booming in the silence __of the semi-dark classroom and one child after another woke, sitting up, startled and rubbing their eyes. _

_"What?" Draco asked, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes._

_"Was what?" Ronald asked, trying to get awake too._

_"Me not." Came Gregory's voice immediately._

_"Which of you imbeciles has destroyed my potions laboratory?" He asked, folding his arms in front of his chest, glowering angrily at them. "My entire potions laboratory, not to mention, each vial and each potion within – destroyed!"_

_"Blaise!" Neville gasped in shock. "You weren't supposed to really do it! Are you mad?"_

_"What?" Came the startled voice from Blaise. "But … but that wasn't supposed to happen!"_

_"Ah, Mr. Zabini!" He growled, using the boy's surname. "And Mr. Longbottom has known about it! Planned it together, haven't you?"_

_"What? NO!" Both boy's declared at once. _

_"Sir, listen, that surely is a misunder- …"_

_"Do not tell me that this might be a misunderstanding, Mr. Zabini." He growled. "You can be lucky if the smoke from the mixed up potions won't get in here through the gap underneath the door to the laboratory!"_

_"Oh, oh …" Ronald made, his gaze at the door underneath which white smoke slowly filled in into the classroom._

_"But that … that was not meant to happen …" Blaise still murmured under his breath._

_"That smoke won't be dangerous, will it?" Lavender asked, her voice frightened._

_"What do you think, Lavender?" Hermione asked back at the girl. "Potions mixed together can be anything from poisonous to …"_

_"You haven't been hurt, sir?" Came Harry's small voice, the boy's green eyes large on him and he sighed, knowing that he wasn't able to startle them any longer, not with Harry fearing more about his, Snape's, safety than his own or his wrath __… _

_"Of course not, you silly child!" He growled, reaching into his robe._

_"Well, if I am correct, then this here …" He held up the second vial he had taken from the shelf. "Is nothing else than simple __– fog." He said, letting the vial drop to the floor where it broke with a soft clinking sound, releasing fog that softly swirled above the ground and spread through the classroom, causing some of the students to give a startled scream away and others to flinch back startled. "Had it not been your part, Mr. Zabini, to wake me?" He then asked with a smirk, causing the children to finally understand and as strange as it was, at the relieved faces around him he was relieved as well. "And to inform me of my destroyed laboratory? As it seemed, I was a bit quicker than you."_

**End flashback**

Well, he had been right and they had laughed long after that. At first they had laughed with relief, but then they had laughed because of the fact that the snarky, cold and evil dungeons bat had played a prank on them, and successfully so, and after _that _they had laughed at the smoke that had wavered through the classroom, casting them all into a white fog that made their voices sounding kind of hollow and their outlines kind of wavering. And – as startling as it had been for him – he had laughed together with them. Softly only, but he _had_ laughed with them.

He only had cleaned up the shards of the broken vial so neither of them would be hurt the next morning when getting off their '_beds'_ without thinking of the shards and then he had gone back to them, sitting beside Harry who circled his hand within the smoke trying to get the fog into circles as well.

It had taken a long time until the last one had been settled back to sleep, but honestly, who cared? They didn't have a timetable down here, they didn't have to follow classes and they didn't have to get up at a precise time. They could sleep all day long to be awake in the nights if they so wished. They, in fact, didn't even know for sure what time of the day it was, only the candles indicating that it was either night or day as they shone brighter during daytime and gave just a soft light away during the nighttime.

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"Any longer, and I was going to drop a bucket of cold water on your head, Mr. Potter." The Potions Master said, sitting at his desk, his eyebrow lifted, but Harry could hear the humour behind his voice and so he simply turned onto his back without really sitting up and rubbing his fists over his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness he still felt while he yawned tiredly.

"I can think of worse ways to wake up." He admitted softly, unable to keep himself from thinking of his uncle.

A soft growl made him looking up at the Potions Master and he could see Snape's eyes narrowing at him with barely concealed anger. He immediately felt another burst of guilt for causing the man to feel angry, even if it was only on his behalf. Just like he had felt the guilt while writing the letter last night.

The letter!

Snape had led him to the mattress, had made him lie down, the man surely had not …

Shoving the blanket off his body and shivering in the cold morning air of the dungeons he quickly got up and went to the desk he had been sitting at, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

There it lay!

Still atop the desk he'd been sitting at!

Upon coming closer however, he could see that the handwriting was not his own but one he distinctly knew from his potions essays, the spidery handwriting from his Potions Professor, and he groaned.

If Snape had written him a letter, then the man surely had read his, Harry's.

'_Dear foolish child, __son__,' _he read and he actually had to sit down at the chair because his knees suddenly felt strangely as if he had been hit with a jelly leg jinx. Son! Snape had written _'son'_! Snape was no one who would write _'son'_ to _anyone_ if he did not mean it! He was sure of that! But he _had_ written _'son'_!

Daring a quick glance into the direction the man had been sitting in, at his own desk, he noticed Snape still sitting there, watching him with a face that seemed harsh and dark, but that seemed to hold … as strange as it sounded, but it was a face that held some kind of fear and insecurity too.

Could it be that the Professor was as unsure as was he? That he was afraid of being rejected just as was he?

Gazing back at the parchment he couldn't help reading the first line once more before going on with reading the entire letter, not knowing that he acted the same way than the Potions Master had acted the night before, reading the greeting again before reading the entire letter, and soon he was sitting there, smiling at the well-known snarky comments the man even in his writing – or _especially_ in his writing – always made.

'_Dear foolish child, __son__,_

_As you are presently __asleep, and – I am sure of this – unlikely to wake up enough to listen closely to my words if I were to wake you now so I could speak to you in person, I deemed it expedient to put this information into writing. You can then show it to Miss Granger, who will __– __no doubt __– __be able to define all the words over three syllables for your benefit._

_It certainly is __not__ ridiculous to write down your emotions and your innermost thoughts and even if I might not be one for sentimentalities, it without doubt neither is ridiculous doing so while addressing me. _

_With your usual efficiency however, you __have managed to waste nearly an hour of my time in answering your idiotic letter and in disabusing your notion that anything of this would be your fault what is the idiotic part in the first place and I really would ask to inquire whether you were truly believing all of what you have been composing in this stubborn head of yours. Hopefully __there will be no need to tell you that if I hear – or read – of an instance in which you decry yourself like this __ever__ again, be assured that you will become acquainted with deep regrets sooner than later – assuming you are not already dead by then as this letter of yours certainly was not meant to be read by me while you being still alive. I __am__ however glad that I did read this letter of yours at the present time as I this way am able to provide you with an answer while you are still breathing._

_If it comes to the issue of guilt, then most certainly I do blame your aunt and uncle without a shadow of a doubt, for mistreating a child as their treatment of you was nothing short of criminal and they should be brought to court and punished for not only child neglect but child abuse and attempted murder as well. __I__ also will have to accept blame here on my own part as well, because I did not see the signs of abuse with you while I am capable of seeing them with the students in my house. Instead I have allowed my wrong view of you to – and here I will repeat myself – act according to this view, to allow this picture to rule over my emotions and therefore to dictate my actions towards you, for what I once again apologize. I however also do blame the wizarding world in general, as its burden simply neither is yours to carry in the first place nor were you able to carry it alone at all. The burden of a society does belong on the shoulders of several adult individuals, not one small foolish child._

_The __only__ mistake you have made is that you did not ask for assistance. Do not misinterpret my words, child, as I do __not__ blame you for this – on the contrary. I am capable of understanding your reasons for keeping this information to yourself, but you nevertheless should have asked for assistance. You declared you trusted me, even back __before__ we were locked in the potions classroom and now I truly would like to know if you actually believe I would have turned you away had you confided in me. And if not in me, then why not in the headmaster as he loves you as if you were his own._

_And do not trouble yourself by trying to persuade yourself that you did not know how the headmaster felt towards you, you foolish child, as I am sure you realized this on your own. You are __far too__ intelligent for not having realized that._

_Concerning you being in the house of Salazar Slytherin – would it have made a difference if you had been sorted into my house? _

_A very good question, child. I definitely would have known about your circumstances at home within the first week and I might have had more reason – and freedom – to tread you as I __should have__ treated you, what I regret deeply. But would I actually have done things differently? I do not know this and I only can hope I had._

_Furthermore, even if you might have lost the friendship of Mr. Weasley__ and Miss Granger, you would have had not just allies but friends as well in Slytherin._

_Your thanks towards me is noted and accepted, but unnecessary. I__ however accept your gratitude for the comfort I tried to give, but I refuse to be thanked for treating your injuries and I will remind you that you are perfectly entitled to common human decency, even if I do know you are entirely too accustomed to your most basic needs going unheeded. __I do accept your thanks in the spirit they were offered however. Your apology on the other hand is disregarded as I already told you that none of this is your fault._

_For your __acknowledgement of my worries, I express my own thanks, even though you are worrying needlessly. What I have offered towards you, I offered by my own free will and loath as I am to admit, I __do__ like you and I __do__ care about you, deeply._

_Your still present reluctance about me finding out your precise situation is just as ridiculous as is your self-blame, although as s__illy as your apprehensions were, you had some reasons for them. I on the other hand am especially thankful that I actually did find out as this knowledge offered me a second chance which I intend to take opportunity of. I also am pleased that I have given you hope and a reason to fight as it will be necessary to survive this situation and I am glad that my offer actually made you – happy._

_I furthermore wish to thank you for your consideration with regards to the matter __you expressed during your silly game today._

_Note however that you indeed are a __perfectly__ normal child, even if a foolish one, that you have __not__ been bad and – I will tell you a thousand times more if the need will arise – the abuse your uncle bestowed upon you has __not__ been punishments but simple child abuse what is considered a crime. __None of this__ had been your fault and neither are you weak, you foolish child. You are indeed exceptionally strong, considering that you are not only in a situation like ours since a week like your class-mates but since three months now, and worse, and still you are alive, still you own the ability to feel affection, still you own the ability to forgive and to trust, and still you own the ability to accept being adopted by your old and grumpy Potions Professor. And most importantly, still you own the ability to have hope, hence I am honoured to call that insolent, insufferable, irresponsible, __impossible,__ intolerable, __inept__, idiotic, reckless, thoughtless, silly, stupid, unspeakable, and __foolish__ little brat that is you, my son, as much as this thought causes me a headache._

_For that reason, please know that your words of greeting in this foolish letter of yours, the meaning and your emotions behind them will be treated with the greatest of care and value. It does mean a great deal to me that you would address me with such a title yet that shows how much trust you already set into my person._

_Severus_

_your father'_

He couldn't help but pressing the parchment he held in still trembling fingers close to his chest for a moment while casting another glance towards the man that had written those words, words he knew were words of affection and care and pride even, even though they were written in the typical snarky way that was the Potions Master's.

The man cared!

He had it written here on this parchment!

And the man was proud about him!

That too stood here on this parchment! In the man's handwriting!

Snape cared! And he was proud that he, Harry, was his son!

Well, at least something along those lines.

Foolish child! Foolish child he had called him! But honestly, he even liked it! Somehow it made this all so much more … real, somehow. Snape was the first one who portrayed him as a child. And as a foolish child no less! Every other one only ever had expected things of him that had been too much or too difficult for him, but Snape had acknowledged him as a child, as a foolish child that was allowed to make mistakes.

Maybe he should have been angry. Maybe he should have stamped with his food and declared that he wasn't a child anymore. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to doing this. It was – somehow kind of nice, knowing that there was just one person who just saw him as a child, as a simple child and not as the saviour of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Or the boy who wouldn't die.

In one point Snape was right. He should be dead already, after not only a week down here with barely something to eat but with after ten weeks with the Dursleys too, being starved and beaten and used as a slave by them, being … well, he better didn't think about _that_ and he just better made sure that Snape _never_ found out about that either. The Professor would be so mad then. Or probably so disgusted at him. And he didn't want to risk _that_.

"If I had known that reading this letter would make you gloomy, then I would have drawn a comic parchment, child." He heard Snape's voice from behind him and turned his head to look up at the man who placed his cloak around his shoulders.

"Thank you." He whispered, not sure if he meant the letter or the cloak.

"You are welcome." Snape answered, not sure if he meant the letter or the cloak.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"What do you have there, Harry?" Ron asked, and honestly, it was a reasonable question as he was sitting there, reading the letter Snape had written him – for probably the tenth time this morning.

Lifting his eyebrow Harry folded his arms and cast a serious glance at Ron.

"My, my, Mr. Weasley! Are we curious today, aren't we?" He asked, smirking at the other boy.

Well, Harry's mimicking of Professor Snape was almost perfect, except from the sneer _– _ he just couldn't sneer as professionally as Snape could. Yet, it obviously was enough to startle Ron and he couldn't help snickering at the horror on the other boy's face. His snickering however got lost the moment he noticed the redhead boy casting his eyes at a point behind him, his face getting even more horrified and slowly he turned – to find Snape standing behind him, his arms folded in front of his chest and his left eyebrow lifted while those dark eyes pierced him seriously as the older wizard glanced down at him.

"My, my, Mr. Potter! Are we cheeky today, aren't we?" The Potions Professor said in that smooth, velvet and shiver inducing voice and he couldn't help gulping for a moment before he noticed the smile that threatened to tuck at the corners of the man's mouth.

"Uhm … well … no …" He answered, feeling nervous nevertheless. Never mind if he got along with the potions professor pretty well now, and never mind if he trusted the man with everything, or at least _nearly _everything, meanwhile, never mind if he even had started to like the man – he couldn't deny that Snape simply was a person that could be very, _very_, frightening if he so wished. "I just wanted to know how you felt when doing this, being so … well … dunno …" He said, lifting his head to look at the man that soon would be his father.

Snape barely could keep his face straight and himself from smirking at the boy. He had seen him reading the letter he had written him in answer to the boy's for at least ten times this morning and he didn't know if he should feel happy about Harry being so happy about this letter or if he should feel worried about the fact that a fourteen year old boy would read a letter he had gotten from him every fifteen or twenty minutes.

Narrowing his eyes at the child when he lifted his head to look up at him he reached out and gripped the child's chin, reminding himself to use slow movements, and he lifted the boy's head a bit more upon noticing a bruise that ran down Harry's chin and neck, noticing the pale face paling even more.

Shoving the collar of the boy's shirt aside a bit to have a closer look he nearly growled.

"_How_, Mr. Potter, did you get _this one_?" He asked angrily when he saw the extent of the bruising, reaching the boy's shoulder even and he fixed the boy with a stern gaze.

"I … well, I … I fell." Harry answered, blinking at him nearly frightened and he reminded himself that he had a child in front of him that had been abused for all his life. "In the bathroom."

"And you did not think of informing me that you are hurt?" He asked, lowering himself to Harry's level, still holding his chin in his hand so he had no choice but to face him, looking into the startled green eyes. "And do not tell me that this is 'nothing' and that you are 'fine'." He quietly said. "I have already learned that you could have fallen off your broom, been attacked by ten death eaters and a dragon at the same time and have a temperature of 107 – and you still would answer that you were - 'fine'."

"Din'wanyouworring." Harry said

"I beg your pardon?" Severus lifted his eyebrow at the blushing boy that tried to avert his eyes. "Could you please repeat this a bit slower so I actually will be able to understand you?"

"Well …" Harry started, taking a deep breath, the blush deepening. "I just … I didn't want you worrying."

The Potions Master just lifted his eyebrow at Harry and gave him a look that clearly said 'we will talk later', a look Harry knew all too well after three years of attending Hogwarts and after more than a week down here with the Potions Master so close, and then he got up and went towards his laboratory to get the healing balm he had used on the boy's injuries earlier during their captivity, when he had learned of the child being abused.

Of course it was no wonder that he downplayed everything. That particular child had endured worse than a simple bruise caused by falling in the bathroom and hitting his shoulder and chin on either the sink or the shower. Of course he would think this was _'nothing' _and that he was _'fine'_ even if being bruised like that. It was not a broken bone and there was no blood flowing after all.

And even then, he doubted that the boy would take it as seriously as would any other child.

Coming back he found Harry still sitting at the table where he had left him and with a sigh he noticed how miserable the boy looked, Draco Theodore and Neville still sitting with him, looking rather worried.

"Your shirt." He simply said upon reaching the table and at the startled look the teen regarded him with, he immediately knew the problem. "I – right now – do not really care about your dignity, Mr. Potter." He said, leaning his hands onto the table in front of the boy, leaning close. Then still looking at him he continued talking to the other children. "I am sure that neither of you will judge _your friend_ because of what his … _aunt_ and _uncle_ had done to him." For a moment he had been about to say 'his relatives', but he wanted to make sure that they knew exactly who it had been that had abused the boy that was to become his son soon. The potion was nearly finished after all. Tomorrow morning or tomorrow evening at the latest he would be ready to adopt Harry as his son. "And neither do I, Harry." He added, back to talking to his son alone.

Harry reluctantly opened his shirt and shoved it off his shoulder, revealing skin he knew was scarred horribly, looked around at the faces of his friends and of his teacher. He expected to see pity, but all he saw was concern, caring and understanding. They weren't angry or upset with him. They didn't think he was worthless, or that somehow it was his fault that he had been abused.

He also remembered when he used to get sick at the Dursleys', or when he got injured by their hands, and how they would have left him in his cupboard until he was better and if he was lucky he would be let out to use the bathroom, or how he would have to work even if he was injured while neither of them cared for his injuries. They never would give him anything that would help him get better. But Snape did. Snape _made_ him feeling better, getting better.

Maybe he really could get through all of this and put the Dursleys' behind him after all!

"And you, young man." Snape got him out of his thoughts with applying the salve over the bruises. "In future time I expect you to inform me of any injuries, bruises or similar things you are so eagerly collecting throughout the day as if they were points to collect, never mind how small those injuries might be."

"Even if I just cut my finger?" He couldn't help asking.

"Even if you just cut your finger." The Potions Master growled at him. "Because knowing _you_, a _simple_ _cut _will have to be deep enough for the finger to be cut _off _until you declare it as serious enough to seek out my help."

"That's not fair." Harry pointed out. "It's not as if I do this intentionally. I do not particularly seek out trouble."

"I never said I was fair." Snape smirked before closing the jar and then disposing it at the table beside the boy, regarding him with another serious gaze, causing the child to sigh. "I do know that you are not out to seek trouble, Harry, but somehow I have the distinct feeling that trouble finds _you_ at every turn you take."

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"You do know that this is a knight, Harry?" Draco asked, blinking in confusion.

"Of course I know. And my knight is kicking your jack of hearts into the backside." Harry laughed lightly and Severus again wondered how the boy was doing this, laughing in their situation, infecting all of them with this as Draco and Theodore were laughing as well. Even Ronald was snickering and Neville was smiling while some of the girls were sitting around them, shaking their heads.

Well, he had to admit, a knight beating a jack of hearts – he never before had heard of such, even if the knight was just an empty vial that once had held a dreamless sleep potion.

"Alright – _Mr_. Harry." Draco smirked. "In this case, my ace of spades will take your queen."

"Damn!" Harry growled out, as if he couldn't have twisted the rules, and he took his queen – that was a vial that had held an anti-cramping potion once – and placed it in the midst of the table, to the jack of hearts Draco had lost, to the vial that had been a painkiller once and was now a rock, and to other cards they had made of parchments – and lost throughout their – wicked game.

Well, he already had forgotten the _'rules' _of this particular _'game'_, which had been made up only minutes before, which were _still_ being made up while they were playing. But – as long as they _did_ play – he didn't care, honestly.

"Alright, _Mr_. Draco." Harry smirked. "I hope you have not played out your best cards and figures, because _I_ … am holding the king of hearts in my hands – that will take your bishop."

"You can't take his bishop." Hermione threw in, obviously the girl _did_ remember the rules. "Not with the king of hearts at least."

"Why not?" Harry asked, while Draco smirked satisfied.

"Because you earlier have declared that a king can only beat cards, not chess pieces." Hermione said, shaking her head as if she couldn't understand that Harry didn't remember.

"Oh." Harry made, with a face that showed surprise and some lack of understanding, even looked apologetic. "Sorry."

"You're losing, _Mr_. Harry." Draco smirked. "You're _looooooosinggg_."

"_Never_ – you … oh … I fear you're right, I'm losing." The boy sighed upon looking at his mixture of parchment and vials.

"Why are you looking at me like _this_, Ron?" Hermione asked. "I'm right, his king can't beat the chess pieces."

"Uhm … well … what? No! I mean … I just …" Ronald's voice sounded as if …

Leaning closer the boy whispered something into the girl's ear and he, Snape, frowned while taking a new sheet of parchment. Of course he knew that it wasn't necessary, double-checking the potion he had brewed. But it wasn't a too common potion and he was about to give it to his son soon, to Harry soon, and he simply wasn't ready to take any risks. The boy was ill enough without a potion that was not brewed 100% correctly.

"What?" Hermione asked startled before turning towards Ronald. "You like me?"

"Shhh!" The boy made, looking at the others sheepishly. "Well, yeah, you're … um … well, a girl, you know?" The red-head spluttered out, blushing, and he, Snape, groaned at the Gryffindor boldness and stupidity the boy just had displayed.

"Honestly, Weasley, that's the _best_ you can do?" Draco asked huffing and shaking his head. "I'm sure Hermione already _knew_ that she's a girl even without your information."

Harry leaned over to Draco, whispering something into the other boy's ear, laughing, placing his arms onto the table and his head atop the arms, barely able to breathe while still laughing and he was sure the boy would have tears of laugher running down his face if he lifted his head.

Not sure if the boy was alright and simply amused about something or if he finally had snapped and lost it, Snape got off his chair and went over to the group of children. Honestly, the situation was severe enough and honestly, the boy had successfully blocked out their situation so far, trying to do his best in distracting the others.

"Is there anything – I should be aware of?" He smoothly asked, his eyebrow lifted, trying to look as cold and collected as always while at the same time he couldn't keep the worry out of his gaze he attended Harry with and he knew it.

"It's … it's nothing, sir." Draco said, quietly laughing too. "Harry … Harry was just … just laughing … about … something he thought."

"And just _what_ exactly were you thinking about?" Snape drawled in a silky whisper, his dark eyes going from one boy to the other.

Harry's face went bright red this time instead of just blushing and the boy shivered, trying to hide his face within his hands but Snape instantly stopped him, his dark eyes staring at him before he couldn't help chuckling and he knew that Harry knew that _he_ knew.

"Hmm … as intriguing as that might be for you to think about, Mr. Potter, I strongly suggest you do not finish this particular thought." His eyes narrowed on the boy for a moment before he smirked. "It appears that you are long overdue for a discussion about _– _sex. Perhaps you and I should have a serious talk tonight before bedtime."

He heard the boy groaning and saw him hanging his head and his smirk deepened. As it seemed the boy was more than just frustrated over the fact that he actually had been saying this in front of Draco and the others.

"No." The boy croaked out in a frustrated voice. "Please, dear Merlin, no." He nearly _whimpered _out. Snape however turned towards his godson as he heard Draco laughing hysterically.

"Mr. Malfoy, I would cease laughing if I were you – unless … you wish me to give you that same talk for a _second_ time." Draco instantly went silent, trying to suppress the last remnants of his snickering.

Well, he knew that it was not nice of him to torture children like this, but well _– _it just came naturally to him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"And you really think Professor Snape will manage?" Harry asked in a whispered voice.

"Dunno, but it's worth a try." Theodore answered, whispering back just as quietly as Harry had. Most of the others were sleeping, in fact, only Hermione was sitting on her mattress, reading her transfiguration book which she probably had read about five times meanwhile.

"Just imagine, the dungeons bat playing marriage broker, you'll never see this!" Harry quietly snorted.

"Well, he's about to form a family with you, why not getting others together as a family as well?" Theodore asked, smiling.

"Well, that's different." Harry smiled back at the other boy, wondering how quickly they all had become friends. "You know, whatever will happen with us down here, it definitely caused one good thing."

"That you got a father?"

"Yeah."

"You're really happy about this, aren't you?"

"Definitely!" Harry said, leaning his head back against the wall. "I do not really care what will happen, because I have a father now, and because it will be Professor Snape. You know, never before had I thought that I would like him one day, but I actually do. So – if I die, I'll die as a son, I'll die being loved and I'll die having someone who cares."

"Hey, shut up!" Theodore hissed angrily. "You won't die down here and neither will anyone else. One more talks about you not caring if you died and I will tell the Professor what you said!"

"No need to tell, I have already heard it all." A soft voice came from beside them, a soft shadow falling over them and instantly Harry stopped laughing, his face paling significantly fast even if the Potions Master had thought it would not be possible for the child to get any paler than he already was.

Snape had been leaving the shadows, was now standing in the soft light of the one candle that was burning during the night, his dark eyes glowering down at the children, his arms crossed in front of his chest, just as scary as ever.

"Merlin!" Harry murmured under his breath while Snape's eyes were piercing into him. "Uhm … well … I was kidding?" He suggested hopefully.

"Into my office, both of you." Severus Snape ordered in a curt voice, turning sharply on his heels and Harry pulled himself up, scrambled behind him into the office with Theodore in his trail, knowing that he was in really deep trouble now.

"Sit!" The dark clad, older wizard ordered and both boys immediately obeyed. "Well?" He then asked.

He was not overly enthusiastic hearing his son talking about not caring if he died and he wanted to get this notion out of the boy's head right now and here.

"Well … Hermione and Ron." Harry said taking his cue and for a moment he furrowed his brows, not understanding what those two had to do with Harry declaring that he wouldn't care if he died.

"Well, you're the only one …" Theodore began.

"Who'll be able to make them realize …" Harry interrupted.

"Why exactly they're always fighting …"

"It's only because they're in love."

"And you're the only one they'll listen too …"

"Because you're usually blunt enough to say what you think …"

"And _scary_ enough to make them listening …"

"So, if _you_ say it …"

"Then maybe they'll realize …"

"Stop this infuriating taking turns in speaking like those blasted and damnable Weasley twins, the both of you, immediately!"

"That they love each other." Harry and Theodore said at the same time and Snape raised an eyebrow, obviously amused by their statement.

"And you want me to do something about it?" He simply asked.

"Yes sir." Harry nodded his head.

"Why should I do such a stupid thing?" The older wizard demanded, shaking his head.

"They'll stop arguing in your class?" Harry offered.

"Yes." Snape huffed, his face nearly disgusted. "Instead they will start being mushy and sappy in my class, which would be so much better."

"Well, they won't be distracted in your class because of their arguing anymore." Theodore tried.

"No, but because of them throwing lovesick gazes towards each other every now and then. No thank you. And now out of you, Mr. Nott! _Not __– _you, Mr. Potter." He added when Harry too was about to stand up.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus Snape was leaving the bathroom, going back to his office and then he would hand out the last _'soup of sunjata roots'_ they had, worrying about what to do after that, what the next day would bring and the day after tomorrow, worrying about …

Harry bumping into him startled him out of his thoughts, the child pale, trembling, gasping for breath and visibly upset, panicky, green eyes much too large in a pale face while the boy nearly cried and his worries increased only upon seeing the child so startled and frightened, barely able to realize his surroundings, stumbling back upon the impact and looking up at him with his too large green eyes.

He caught the boy tightly with his hands on the too thin shoulders that were only bones covered with a thin layer of skin meanwhile and held him in place while his own heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat.

"Harry!" He called out, tightening his grip on the bony shoulders. "Child, calm yourself and tell me what has happened."

"Draco!" Seemed to be the only word Harry was able to choke out in a shocked and frightened voice.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_family matters and flubberworms  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	16. family matters and flubberworms

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He caught the boy tightly with his hands on the too thin shoulders that were only bones covered with a thin layer of skin meanwhile and held him in place while his own heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat._

_"Harry!" He called out, tightening his grip on the bony shoulders. "Child, calm yourself and tell me what has happened."_

_"Draco!" Seemed to be the only word Harry was able to choke out in a shocked and frightened voice._

**Chapter sixteen**

**Day ten – Wednesday, eleventh of September**

**Family matters and flubberworms**

"Calm down, child!" Severus said a bit sharper when he noticed that Harry was _not_ calming down while he himself felt dread overwhelming him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He was glad to see that Harry at least tried to do as he was told. "Hush now. Tell me what happened." He continued while simply turning the boy on his shoulders and steering him into the direction of the classroom when he noticed that the child's attempts were unsuccessful.

"He fell." Harry said, his words still choked out in a strange voice. "He went pale and he trembled and then he fell." The boy muttered all along the way through his office. "And then he didn't answer and I shook him but he didn't wake and I … and he … he …"

"Hush, child." Severus gently hushed the boy, tightening his grip on the bony shoulder. He had known that Draco would be the next. Either Draco or Theodore. "Draco just fainted from lack of food." He said, trying to appease the boy. "I expected this sooner or later. He will be fine."

Quickly he followed Harry into the classroom, towards the mattresses and to his godson where he shoved the boy down onto his own pellet before he too would drop, from nerves, before he turned to Draco – who just then opened his eyes and blinked at him rather stupidly for a moment.

"You are not to sit up right now, Draco." Severus said the moment he noticed the blond boy trying to do just this and he placed a hand on the boy's chest, keeping him from getting off his prone position. "How are you?"

"Uhm … fine … sir …" The boy stammered, a clear sign of how vulnerable he felt right now, of how embarrassed he was about something he, Severus, had expected since some time now and from all of them. It was a tiny miracle it hadn't happened before.

Well, he had told them all that they had to drink a lot, as much as possible, and he had told them that they were not to get up immediately in the mornings, that they were to stay flat for some more minutes after awakening and that they were to first sitting up for some more minutes before they finally got up – slowly. And he had told them that they were not to get up from sitting at the table hastily, but slowly and carefully.

And nevertheless he had expected this sooner.

"Are you feeling dizzy?" He asked and Draco – a fine film of cold perspiration covering his pale face – shook his head.

"Draco!" He growled. "I have to know how you are feeling. This is important, this is not a game. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Sighing the boy nodded – barely visible while averting his eyes, not daring to look at his classmates.

Quickly checking the boy's breathing, his pulse and his eyes, taking in the slightly shaking form, the pale skin and the clammy forehead, he nearly sighed with relief. It was nothing more than just fainting from lack of food. Of course nothing to be relieved about – normally – but considering all their conditions, it could be worse and he knew that. Draco had lost consciousness for a moment, as he had known such would happen at one point or another, but he was still alive. He was still not really cramping and he was still responsive.

"What happened?" He asked, not able to suppress the mixture of relief and concern showing on his voice. "What exactly were you doing before you fainted?"

"I … I didn't … I didn't _faint_!" The boy shook his head with a face that clearly showed horror.

"You did, Draco." He said, a scowl on his face. "Remember, you are not to keep your weakness hidden. I have known that this would happen sooner or later and I do know that it will happen to all of you. I also know that it will _not_ be the last time either. You have to face the truth, Draco, as startling and as frightening as it might be, and as embarrassing you might think it is. But it _is not_ embarrassing. Your body simply lacks nutrients and your body simply won't work the way you want it working. It is a normal reaction to our situation. Your body does not like being not fed and it simply complains."

"I was just getting off the chair to get the book I was reading." Draco finally murmured. "Because 'Mione said the _'point me charm'_ was the only locating charm and I wanted to prove her wrong."

Severus cast a quick glance at the girl, noticing the shortcut Draco had used, 'Mione instead of Hermione, and he also noticed Ronald Weasley's face getting red with anger the moment Draco had used the girl's nickname. The boy however stayed silent – luckily for him, the Potions Master thought.

"Take this one, Draco." He murmured, still crouching beside the boy and he opened one of the potions bottles he meanwhile was carrying with him all the time, reaching it towards his godson, again glad that nothing worse had happened, that the boy hadn't hit his head, just for example, when he fell.

"I'm okay, uncle Severus." The blond teen whined and Severus lifted his eyebrow, as the tightness in Draco's voice said otherwise.

"Take – this potion – Mr. Malfoy!" He repeated, more firmly this time, his black eyes fixing the pale blue ones of his godson. "_Now_!"

Well, at least the boy had the sense to obey this time without further complaint.

"I trust you have gotten up from your chair slowly, despite your desire to prove your point to Hermione?" He sternly asked and the boy nodded. A quick glance towards said girl and Harry told him that Draco had indeed said the truth and had risen from his chair slowly.

"Good." He said, leaning back finally, relief showing on his face. "Stay laying here. There is however the 'locus spell' too, a spell with which you can locate persons as well as objects when using it as 'locus persona' or 'locus res'. This spell however has the disadvantage of being rather complicated. It shows you the place where the person or item is residing currently, but not the direction it lays in and if you do not recognize the place where it lays you won't find what or whom you are searching."

He sat back, leaning his back against the wall and pulling Draco's body close while looking into the pale faces of the children that slowly but surely settled onto the mattresses, startled at how quietly and eager they were listening to his words. Why was it that they were able to concentrate on his words right now, while they never had done so in the past?

"The same goes for the 'in situ charm'." He continued, noticing that Draco had closed his eyes and that Harry finally relaxed. Theodore, who had been startled too, seemed to calm down as well as the others who settled themselves against the wall or underneath their blankets. "It gives you however not the picture of the place, but the word. If however the word 'cupboard' appears in a classroom such as this with a lot of shelves and cupboards for potions ingredients, then you will have trouble finding it nevertheless as this charm won't tell you which cupboard exactly is meant. The safest spell still is the point me charm, as it will lead you directly to the place where the person or the object you are searching for is seated, even though it won't work over long distances."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It hadn't taken much time and nearly all the children had been asleep. Harry and Long- … Harry and Neville had been the only two left awake and he had deposited Draco onto his mattress, had tucked the blanket around the thin shoulders. He still had remained beside the boy however, watching him while listening to the quiet conversation between Harry and Neville while thinking about this particular boy. As much as he was irritated by Neville's incompetence when it came to potions – or nearly anything at all – the boy was Harry's friend. And Harry was becoming his son, so if he liked it or not, he would have to accept the boy in his son's life.

And honestly, somehow he had the strange feeling that Neville Longbottom made a far better friend for Harry than Ronald Weasley did. It was a more quiet friendship, not as boisterous as the one Harry had with Ronald, but he nevertheless felt that Neville might be a more trustworthy friend – and more loyal.

At one point or another during the night he had fallen asleep, despite his desire to stay awake, just to monitor Draco's condition – not to mention that he wanted to have an eye on Harry who had been sitting on his pallet, watching Draco too.

And right now he glanced down to see said boy, still sitting on his mattress, Indian style, his upper body bent forwards in an awkward angle, his head on Draco's sleeping place, asleep, a position that made the teen looking even smaller and thinner than he ever had seen him. The boy looked exhausted and pale, more pale than he already normally looked, and immediately he knew that he had been sitting beside Draco's sleeping form for the most part of night.

"Harry." He quietly said before placing his hand on the bony back, between his shoulder blades so he wouldn't startle the boy too badly. But he wanted him in a different position than this one. The teenager surely would already suffer from an aching lower back when he woke.

Slowly Harry blinked a few times before opening his eyes completely and for a moment he sighed, realizing that he was still tired. He heard Snape moving beside him and with a suddenly warm feeling in his chest he noticed that he had heard the man calling his name, what actually had woken him in the first place. He felt the man's hand between his shoulder blades, gently laying on his back and he tried to sit up but hissed at the pain that immediately shot through his spine and lower back.

"Don't move." Severus said, shaking his head. "Relax your muscles, Harry. It will be easier if I get you into a more upright position as you apparently are not able to without aggravating your strained muscles."

Watching the boy obeying, relaxing, with a nearly content sigh he gently reached out and sneaked one arm in front of the boy's chest, while he laid his other hand atop the teen's lower back for comfort and then he slowly pulled the startling thin body upright, pausing for a short moment whenever the boy hissed in pain.

Harry had lost weight at a rapid speed now and the Potions Master was more than worried. He could feel each rib sticking out painfully beneath his right hand, as well as each backbone beneath his left one. He … Merlin, it felt as if there was nothing between the boy's bones and his hands, absolutely nothing.

Harry looked up into the dark eyes of the man that so suddenly had become the focus of his life, that was to become his father even. Today. Snape had said today the potion could be given. Would he really … his gaze went to Draco and he immediately knew that no, most likely not today. The blond boy definitely was more important right now than was he and his childish desire to have – Snape, of all persons, as his father.

Focusing back at the dark eyes of that man, he saw his own worries and concerns reflected back at him.

"Do not think that you or your needs are less important than Draco or anyone else in this classroom, Harry." The man said, startling him and not for the first time he had the distinct impression that Snape could read his thoughts. "We will do the adoption today, if you are ready to."

He quietly nodded and upon Snape placing his hand on his shoulder he quickly moved off the mattress, making space for the dark man to kneel beside his godson who had awakened upon their quiet words and right now blinked at them both sleepily.

"How do you feel?" Severus asked, placing his hand on the boy's forehead, not able to keep the concern out of his voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." Draco sleepily said. "And I feel better."

"Do you still feel dizzy?" Severus inquired, watching the teen closely.

"No." The boy answered, slowly shaking his head and the Potions Master nearly smirked. As it seemed, Draco did not trust his own words completely.

"Any other discomfort?" Severus asked and again Draco slowly shook his head.

"No, I just could devour a complete … never mind." He quickly added at the guilty look on his godfather's pale face.

"I am sorry." The man quietly said, his dark eyes steady on his godson, but Draco nevertheless could see the guilt in them, the pain – and the fear.

"It's not your fault, uncle Severus." Draco quietly said.

"Perhaps not." Severus sight. "Perhaps it is. It should not have happened in the first place, and if I had watched more closely, then no cauldron would have exploded."

"We don't know if this really is the reason for this mess." Harry's quiet voice beside him startled him and he looked over at the teen that reached out a glass of water from the sink.

"Thank you." Severus said, taking the glass from Harry's slightly shaking hand and reached it towards Draco. "I am however well aware that as the resident Potions Master, it is in my responsibility that no accidents happen during my lessons to begin with."

"There always are cauldrons exploding during potions, sir." Harry quietly murmured. "It always can happen, it isn't as if we were able to go through a lesson without exploding or melting one. And you had the shield in place nicely quick. You can't prevent seventeen idiots like us from exploding a cauldron all at the same time."

"_You_ might be an idiot, Harry." Draco murmured, trying to lighten the mood. "_I_ am however not. I am quite adapt at potions. However, uncle Severus is right. You are just as important and you should drink the potion today. I'm quite fine and I'm sure I won't _faint _while watching you drinking a potion. I have seen you drinking before, you know, and that never has been a pleasant sight."

"None of you are idiots." The older wizard growled. "But you all are insufferable imbeciles!"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Draco dropping unconscious last night, and Harry's rapid loss of weight, his hands on the boy's bony body this morning, had startled him more than he was ready to admit and if he was honest with himself, then he had to admit that he simply was scared.

He always had been a man who was in control of every situation, never mind if it was with his potions, with his classes, with exploding cauldrons, with any of his spying and 'death eater allies' or the Dark Lord himself. He always had been in control. But this – knowing that seventeen children would die down here, that seventeen children would suffer a slow and not so pleasant death, knowing that he would have to watch them die one by one, knowing that he would not be able to prevent their deaths, that was nothing that indicated he was in control.

And he could tell that Harry felt the same way.

Not for the first time a part of him wanted to pull that boy close to him, to still those meanwhile constantly trembling limbs, wanted to say that everything was going to be alright but at the same time he knew that _he _of all people didn't have that right. He never had given himself that right to begin with and he knew, no matter how much he wanted to, it would be forever beyond his reach. Because it was his fault alone, that Harry had lost his parents in the first place.

He might have the right to comfort the boy when he came to him, seeking comfort, it even might be his _duty_ then, but he had no right to comfort the boy for his own, Severus', comfort. He had no right doing so, just because he wanted to at that precise moment, just because it would comfort himself as well. He had screwed his right to comfort the boy for his own sake too, the moment he had brought that blasted prophecy to the Dark Lord so many years ago.

Harry could tell that Snape was brooding – again, that he was blaming himself for their situation. But it _wasn't_ his fault! It wasn't _Snape's_ fault! Cauldrons exploded in potions all the time and … it simply _wasn't Snape's fault_! The man had cast a shielding charm quickly enough to prevent anyone from getting hurt. He always did. Most of the times he, Harry, didn't realize that there was an exploding cauldron until the shield was already up, muffling the explosion to a soft bang.

Watching the man groaning softly and placing his head into his hands he quietly got up and went over to the desk Snape was sitting at, timidly reaching out and he very softly touched the man on his shoulder, carefully placing his hand on the shirt the man was wearing. At first he was ready to snatch his hand back at any sign of danger, but then Snape looked up, startled at first, his dark eyes nearly blazing dangerously and he was about to retreat a step when he felt the man's arm sneak around his waist and Snape pulling him close.

And just then, for the first time in his life Harry felt safe around an adult and something inside of Harry was starting to come to life, to awaken. It was a gesture so much alike a scene that was displayed in front of him when watching other families, fathers interacting with their sons … he was not really sure what exactly the feeling at the moment was, but he simply knew – he felt safe.

And he knew, it was something to fight for – he _had_ to survive.

Severus was startled out of his musings when a small and trembling hand hesitantly touched his shoulder and startled he looked up into the pale face and into the frightened green eyes of Harry and for a split second he felt the need to hiss dangerously at the boy that dared to touch him.

But the moment passed so quickly he barely recognized it and all that was left was a deep feeling of comfort. Harry had come to comfort him. Him! Severus Snape, dark and cold dungeons bastard! _Him_!

Looking into the frightened green eyes that quickly changed into something akin to panic, seeing the boy starting to retreat from him he reached out and sneaked his arm around the thin waist of the child, pulling him close until he stood beside him, proud at the child that he had reached out to touch him on his own, something he was sure he had dreaded, something he was sure the child had not done for a very, very long time, most probably for his entire life.

And he – he, Severus Snape, he had been the reason!

"You do not know what you are getting yourself into, Potter." He couldn't help growling darkly for a moment. "I am not a pleasant man to begin with, but I have done things … I have committed crimes during the first wizarding war you would turn your back on me if you knew them. I am not the person you think …"

"No!" The boy interrupted him, his pale face startled, frightened, scared and desperate. "You … just don't! I don't know everything, but I have a good idea … and … and you did what you had to do in order to survive … as everyone else … please … don't … don't push me aside because … I mean, lesser men than you would have … you … just please … I don't care … I …"

"Hush, child." He sighed, pulling the boy even closer. "I will not push you away. I just say that you do not know what you are getting yourself into."

"I don't care." The boy stubbornly repeated, pressing his face into his, Snape's, shoulder, nearly giving a sob away and he could feel the ever present trembling of the skeletal form increasing. "I … I only want … I mean, I trust you … I feel safe with you … and … well … I mean … that is … if you still … I … Ijustlikeyouand … and … andIdlikehavingyouasmyfather." The insufferable brat said quietly and quickly, closing his eyes and burying his head even more within the folds of his shirt.

"Harry." He heard Snape's deep voice and felt the man's hands on his shoulder, shoving him away until he was standing straight beside the Potions Master again, the older wizard's fingertips on his chin, lifting his head and he had to look at the man. "Take a deep breath, calm down and repeat what you just said, slower this time so I actually can understand you."

Snape's dark eyes were shining with slight amusement and he couldn't help blushing, shaking his head in a desperate way. He surely would die if he repeated his words and he was occupying himself with looking at his hands when he felt an arm sliding around his shoulders and he was pulled to once more rest against Snape's chest.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, not entirely sure exactly what he had just confessed to the older wizard, but glad nevertheless that he had said it. He let himself be held tightly, happy to stay as he was for as long as the Potions Master would let him.

"I already _have_ offered you this, child, and if this is what you want, then be it." The man softly said while running his hand up and down his back. "If this is what you want, then I will be a lucky man indeed to have you as my son."

'_As long as we're alive.'_ He couldn't help thinking.

Severus Snape, with elegant fingers beneath his chin, again lifted the face of the Gryffindor so he could see the teenager's frightened eyes and he immediately knew what the boy had been thinking. There was no trained legillimens needed to know the boy's thoughts.

"You know that I will do all to get you out of there as soon as possible and to keep you alive as long as possible until we have found a way out of here, don't you?" He asked, trying to sound reassuring. "We will survive this, never mind how, but we will."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Draco had been laying on his makeshift bed for the most part of the day, sometimes sleeping, sometimes reading or chatting with the others and he had once again been startled at how quickly they had become friends. Hermione definitely was not so bad, honestly, and neither were Lavender or Parvati. And Harry? Harry and Neville definitely were more than acceptable. Neville was a bit left-handed, honestly, but the boy definitely was not stupid and he was brave and loyal.

And Harry? Well, he had learned a lot about the other boy during the past days and honestly, neither did he envy him for what he had been through, nor was he jealous that uncle Severus adopted Harry. He had been alone since always, he had no siblings or other relative his age, and somehow _that _it was, what Harry had become for him, some kind of sibling. He wasn't sure to what extend, or what exactly it meant, he wasn't even sure what exactly it felt like. But he felt _something_.

Seamus and Dean? He wasn't sure about them. They were just a bit too close to Weasley. Somehow they seemed to be the new golden trio. Not that Seamus and Dean were mean in any kind, nor had they done anything. They just were – a bit too close to Weasley.

But Harry? Harry and him had come quite close, he had to admit, Gryffindor or not, and somehow he couldn't help worrying while at the same time he was glad that finally someone was going to take care of him, even if it was a bit too late now. But he had seen the condition the other boy was in. He had seen the cuts and the welts that still had been there, days after term had started, and he had seen all the scars. He had seen how thin Potter was, and how pale.

But well – at least Harry had someone now. And he vowed that he would not only would have uncle Severus but him, Draco, too.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He knew that the potion would not harm Harry. He had checked, and he had double checked. The potion wouldn't even harm him in the weak state he was in.

And nevertheless he was nervous.

"I need a drop of blood from you, Harry." He quietly said, trying to keep his nervousness out of his voice. Never before had he done such a thing. He knew how to brew the potion and he knew what was required, what to do during the adoption to make it valid, but he never before had done it. Nor had he ever witnessed such an event before. "Our both blood is the last ingredient to the potion and it has to be added directly before the adoption takes place."

Harry nodded at him, his eyes fixed on the small silver dagger he was holding, his body stiff and trembling, and he knew exactly what the boy's fears were. He had seen the scars, Merlin – the cuts, on the boy's back and he knew what had caused some of them.

"I would allow you to do this by yourself, if it were possible." Severus said, placing a reassuring hand onto the boy's shoulder while locking his dark eyes with the green ones that looked so scared right now, knowing that most likely flashbacks were running through the boy's mind upon seeing the dagger – as small as it looked – in his hands, trying to reassure the boy with his gaze. "But for the adoption being valid, the adult that is about to take care of the child has to do this as a sign of not only trust from the part of the child but of how careful the adult will be."

"That's ok." Harry softly replied, his eyes still on the dagger, not able to get them off the small weapon. "I _do_ trust you."

"I know." The Potions Master said. "And nevertheless I would like to give you this small act of control by doing this for yourself. I promise that I will be as careful as possible. It is a cut, and therefore it will sting a bit and it will bleed, and I do acknowledge your fears due to your past experiences with knives in the hands of adults. The choice is still yours. Are you still sure that you wish to do this?"

"Yes." The boy simply said, his eyes still glued to the dagger he still held in his hand and it was clear that the boy did not want his fear being in the way of this adoption.

"Come here, Harry." He quietly said, waving the boy closer to where he stood and Harry did. He cast a quick and scared look at him, at his face, into his eyes, before his own eyes went back to the dagger he was holding, but then he took that last one step and came closer. Wrapping his arms around the smaller form he turned the boy in his arms so Harry stood with his back leaning against him, and he took the boy's left hand into his own left hand, in front of the boy's chest so he could see what he was doing.

"Alright?" He asked, feeling the child's breathing speeding up, feeling the small body in front of him tensing, feeling the slight trembling increasing and he didn't have to crone his neck to look at the boy's face to know that it was pale and held a fine film of perspiration, that the green eyes still were on the dagger he held. Harry this time didn't answer, just nodded his head, not able to actually voice anything right now.

Without further delay he tightened the hold he had on Harry's left hand, took the boy's forefinger between his own fingers and quickly made a small cut over the tip, careful to only scratch the skin without cutting deeper than necessary. He immediately shoved the dagger into the sleeves of his robe, out of the teen's line of view, noticing that Harry still stood in front of him, tense and stiff like a board, but had taken a deep breath, holding it there as if it was his last breath of air he ever would take.

"Breathe." He softly whispered into the child's ear while he at the same time squeezed the small finger, letting a drop of blood falling into the vial of adoption potion that was destined for him. "It is over. Everything is quite fine. _You_ are quite fine. Just take a deep breath."

And Harry did, he actually could feel him closing his eyes and releasing his breath, taking a deep breath again.

"That's it, child." He whispered. "Just continue breathing. In and out." He directed while pressing a swab over the small cut, directing the boy's thumb over the swab until he held it in place by himself.

Harry heard the deep and velvet voice behind him, felt the strong arms of the Potions Master encircling him, holding him, but nevertheless he wasn't able to control his breathing, he wasn't able to keep his trembling from worsening, wasn't able to keep from shuddering. He could feel the nausea washing over him in waves, could feel the slight film of perspiration all over his body and the dark spots that clotted his eyesight made it just worse, made him feeling weak, but not once did the arms release their hold. Instead they tightened as if ensuring him that even if he should fall, they would hold him, even if he should fall, the man holding him would stand tall for him, and he leaned back against the strong figure of the older wizard, closing his eyes for a moment while he tried to get himself back under control, listening to the soft murmur of the deep and velvet voice while imagining the dark eyes that belonged to that voice.

If only that situation would have happened three years ago, if only this strong and caring presence of the Potions Master had been there for him three years ago when he had started Hogwarts. If only there had not been so much animosity between them since the start. He could have had all of this earlier.

Severus waited until he was sure that Harry would not drop before he loosened his grip on the child somewhat and slipped the dagger back into his right, making a quick cut over his own forefinger of his left hand before slipping the dagger back into the folds of his sleeves and squeezing a drop of blood into the second vial he had prepared, all the while maintaining his hold on the boy before he finally again turned the child in his arms so Harry could lean against him more comfortably. Placing one hand onto the boy's neck and the other at the child's back he could feel the perspiration dampening the boy's shirt, covering the child's neck and still he waited, trying to give what comfort he had while a scene came to his mind, a scene he should have regarded years ago.

**Flashback**

_"Care to explain exactly what you are doing, Potter?" Snape asked, his eyes resting coldly on the boy in front of him. "If I am correct, then you are to cut the flubberworms into fine slices, not the taddenworms. __**They**__ are meant to be cut into cubes, you imbecile. Did anyone ever teach you reading or do you not care to clean your ridiculous glasses so you actually might see what is written on the board?"_

_With an impatient growl he took the potions knife from the first year's trembling fingers and leaned down, ignoring the startled flinch the brat gave away, ignoring the nearly panicked expression on the boy's paling face, trying to show the stupid brat how to cut the potions ingredients correctly._

**End flashback**

Just now he realized in how many ways he had not only startled the child back then, but in how many ways he had wronged him too. He surely had startled and frightened the child out of his wits by taking the knife in such a harsh way from his fingers and he didn't dare imagining the boy's first thoughts upon his actions, being sure that the boy had feared he would be punished with the knife. He also realized just now that the boy had been able to read, yes, but he had been far behind the others in reading and writing when he had started Hogwarts, having not attended primary school and his remark had been unnecessary cruel.

But there was more he had not thought about until right now, that he remembered this particular potions lesson. But right now he also realized that maybe – closing his eyes for a moment he nearly groaned – that maybe the boy had not even been _able_ to difference between the words flubberworms and taddenworms. Both words looked similar when written on the board and if …

He definitely would have to check the boy's eyesight as soon as they were out of this. Maybe the boy so often had problems in his classes because he simply wasn't able to see the board clearly. Considering the fact that the boy definitely was neglected, and given the last memory, he barely believed that Petunia had taken the child to an oculist.

"Are you alright, Harry?" He asked, forcing himself back to the present and upon feeling the boy's nod against his chest he shoved the teenager away a bit, looking down into the pale face.

"I'm ok." The boy quietly said. "I was just startled a bit, sor…"

"Do not even think of apologizing, Harry." Severus growled gently, his dark eyes blazing. "This is your last chance to back out of this, Harry." He then said, unable to keep the corner of his lips from twitching upwards traitorously upon the boy's startled headshaking and he reached the vial that held a now slightly red liquid towards the boy, the one that contained his, Severus' drop of blood and Harry took it with slightly shaking fingers.

Well, the boy's fingers always shook nowadays and again he regarded the teen with worried eyes. If only this precise situation would have happened three years ago. If only …

Knowing that it was futile now, he took his own vial, the one that contained a drop of blood from Harry, and placing his hand on the boy's shoulder he downed its contents without grimacing at the coppery taste of the blood, watching Harry doing the same.

"I take you into the Snape family, as small as this family is." He quietly said, taking the vial from the boy's hand and slipping them both into the pocket of his robe while at the same time he enfolded the boy's slight form into the robe in a way of protection. "I will protect you with my life and I will care for you with all I own, physically as well as mentally. I shall never harm you in any way, shape or form and I shall never forget that you are mine. You are mine, Harry." He said, a smile this time tugging at his lips for real, and as startling as it was – he didn't even mind.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He didn't feel different. Absolutely not. He still felt like being Harry Potter, but he could feel the warmth spreading through him when Snape wrapped his cloak around him, when the man held him close, and he could feel the comfort washing over him while listening to the older wizard's words.

The only thing he noticed was tiredness. A tiredness so deep he felt exhausted, as if he had run for miles, as if he had worked for hours, as if he had not slept for days. But it wasn't an unpleasant tiredness, like after working for hours or not sleeping for days. It was a rather warm tiredness, a tiredness that made him wanting staying there in Snape's arms forever, and he sighed a content sigh of relief. He had a father now. He wasn't alone anymore. He belonged to someone. There was someone who actually cared.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Severus asked once more upon feeling the small form of the child he held in his arms relaxing against him tiredly and he actually could feel the exhaustion the boy radiated.

"Yes." The boy answered. "I'm just tired."

"I know." The Potions Master softly answered, running one hand through the unruly mop of dark hair on the back of the boy's head. "It is a normal feeling. The potion we used is an old potion with very strong magical ingredients, our blood being the strongest of them, and it will take a few hours until it has settled completely in your system. Maybe it will be best if you sleep through the event."

"Is it real?" The teen asked, looking up at him with eyes so unsure and yet full of hope he nearly missed a breath. "Is it actually real? Did this really happen?"

"Yes, it is real." Severus seriously answered. "This really happened."

"So … so … I'm … so I'm really your son?" Harry asked, still needing this reassurance. "I mean, it really worked?"

"Yes, you are my son now." Severus answered, his dark eyes still fixed on the pale face and he himself could feel the unbelievable shock of being a father so suddenly, of having a son so suddenly, could feel the warmth the boy he held in his arms radiated, could feel the tiredness the potion running through his own system caused. "Not by ministry laws, but by wizarding traditional laws. You are rightfully my son and no one can deny that, not even the minister of magic as the ancient magic of social traditions are much stronger than are ministry laws that had been installed hundreds of years later. And nevertheless we can make this valid in front of the ministry as well, if you so wish, just so that Fudge cannot deny you your now rightful name."

"I'd like that." The boy whispered tiredly, settling back against his chest and he couldn't help chuckling lightly, feeling light-hearted for the first time in many years despite the tiredness and exhaustion he felt.

"Then this is what shall happen." He answered, pulling the cloak of his own shoulders and wrapping the teen in the dark fabric, steering the boy back into the classroom where the others waited, all of them looking up expectantly when he opened the door and led Harry out. "I suggest you go to sleep, Harry. The potion will have settled in the morning when you awaken."

"Are you tired too?" The boy asked, suppressing a yawn.

"Actually, I am, yes." The Potions Master admitted, his eyebrow lifted at the suppressed yawn.

"Will you lay down too?" Harry asked and he couldn't help sighing at the display of childish curiosity, knowing that right now the potion caused this childish behaviour, allowing the boy – and most likely for the first time since long – to feel for once like the child he was while it ran its course through the boy's system until it had settled.

"Impatient whelp." He growled, startling the other students while chuckling lightly. "I will take a – _nap _– if you do."

"Ok." The boy simply sighed, slumping down onto the mattress that was his while he, Severus Snape, settled down with a bit more display of dignity. He wouldn't sleep, but he would lay down for his son's sake. "And now go to sleep." He said while cradling the boy close. "You look like a ghost rather than a fourteen year old boy. You soon will rival the bloody baron."

"You'd break a mirror too, if you looked into one, sir." The boy said, smiling while leaning against him, closing his eyes and Severus emitted a soft chuckle while running his hand over Harry's face lightly.

"Just go to sleep brat." He softly replied, but Harry already had his eyes closed and there was no response from the relaxed form than even breathing.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the wards have fallen  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	17. the wards have fallen

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"And now go to sleep." He said while cradling the boy close. "You look like a ghost rather than a fourteen year old boy. You soon will rival the bloody baron."_

_"You too you would break a mirror if you looked into one, sir." The boy said, smiling while leaning against him, closing his eyes and Severus emitted a soft chuckle while running his hand over Harry's face lightly._

_"Just go to sleep brat." He softly replied, but Harry already had his eyes closed and there was no response from the relaxed form except even breathing._

**Chapter ****seventeen**

**Day ****eleven – Thursday****, twelfth of September**

**The wards have fallen**

They had not been able to use magic to strengthen the adoption, to give a basis to it they could build on, but he knew that there were other ways and even if Severus Snape never had believed in those ways, he now was ready to try it. Automatically his eyes went over to the child in question, watched him, and while lightening a candle on his desk he tried to imagine the boy sitting on his table in his quarters, doing his homework, eating his meals, drinking tea with him, and playing games.

He tried to imagine the boy laying in the bed in his guest room, sleeping, imagined this room being the boy's room, not even grimassing at the red and gold that decorated the walls, and he imagined the child sitting there on this bed, reading, playing, resting, and a warm tingling crept over him, like a blanket that wrapped itself around his shoulders.

Startled, knowing for sure that it was magic he felt, he lifted his head and looked over at the boy in question, at Harry, at his son, and seeing that the child had his eyes open, was looking at him, he quickly left his desk and went back to the mattresses, to his son.

The boy's eyes were bright, a bright green he rarely had seen, neither in Harry's eyes, nor in the child's mother's eyes, in Lily's eyes, a green that promised … he didn't know what exactly it did promise, but for a moment he had the overwhelming feeling that nothing else mattered than Harry being his son, than loving and caring for this particular child, than keeping this particular child alive, never mind the cost and his chest actually hurt, physically hurt while looking into those bright green eyes.

"Harry …" Severus whispered in an almost broken voice, lifting a hand to place it onto the boy's shoulder, still not able to break eye contact with the child, with his son, and in this moment he knew that the adoption had been successful, in this moment, while he lifted his hand from the child's shoulder to touch his face, he knew that Harry was his son now and that no one, not even the ministry, would be able to take the child away from him.

That only death would be able doing so.

Harry woke from a feeling that definitely felt strange, at least strange for their current situation. He long ago had gotten used to the fact that they were locked down here in the dungeons, in the potions classroom, that here they couldn't do magic and that right now he couldn't feel the usual magic that normally was humming through the castle. He had stopped waking up, nearly panicking because he couldn't feel the normal flow of magic that seemed to be coming from deep within the castle's walls.

But right now he could feel just this. He could feel magic, and opening his eyes he saw the Potions Master, having lit a candle, looking through the classroom as if deep in thought before his eyes fell on him, Harry. A moment later the man was coming over, and for the life of him, he couldn't say if he was running over to him or if he moved slowly and carefully. He just knew that a moment later the older wizard, his father, was beside him, kneeling beside him, watching him intently and the dark eyes seemed so startling dark, so pitch black, that for a moment he held his breath.

Of course he knew that Snape had black eyes, he always had had black eyes, but right now they seemed to be blacker than black. And so deep he feared he would get lost in them if he looked into them any longer, and yet he couldn't avert his eyes. He didn't even _want_ to avert his eyes. Those dark black eyes suddenly gave him an anchor he knew he never again would find, never mind where he would search for it and the safety they spoke of was overwhelming.

And he knew, never mind what, Snape was his father now. Snape would be there, always, would care for him, would provide him with anything he needed, would keep him safe and alive, never mind what, he automatically knew that Snape would die to keep him alive and he could feel tears running down his face.

He heard him calling his name, not Potter, not _Mr_. Potter even, but Harry, in a way he never before had said his name. He could feel Snape placing his hand on his shoulder and for the first time he nearly gasped at the feeling of safety this gesture gave him. He wasn't sure if Snape repeated his name, but he could feel the man's hand moving from his shoulder to his face, long and rough fingertips running down his cheek, and he more felt than saw that the older wizard wanted to say something more but didn't seem able to.

'_It's okay.'_ Harry wanted to say. _'I trust you.'_ But he didn't know how to form the words, didn't know how to get those words out, didn't dare to break the moment between them.

Softly, nearly carefully, Severus ran his fingers over the boy's cheek and for the next few minutes he just watched as a million emotions flashed across Harry's pensive face before he slowly wrapped his arms around the child, around his son. For a moment he could feel Harry instantly tensing up, like he always did, but only for a moment and then he could feel the child relaxing, could feel the child leaning his head against his shoulder, leaning against him completely, while he started to cry and he brought up his hand and stroked the back of his son's head. His son.

And once again Severus Snape felt his world tipping precariously. He took several deep breaths through his nose, and then, when he was sure he wasn't going to faint anymore, he reached out and placed his hand on his student's shoulder – on his son's shoulder – and pushed him away a bit so he could look back into those bright green eyes.

And Harry smiled shyly at him, like the child he was, and yet, there still was something hard in those eyes, something that didn't belong into the gaze of a fourteen year old.

"I belong." He heard the faint whisper of the boy, not sure if Harry really had whispered those two small words that seemed to have such a big meaning. I belong.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A few floors upstairs, in Albus' office, a soft alarm was ringing, a soft buzzing that grew louder and louder with each second that passed until it filled the office with a nearly deafening noise and a moment later the portrait that led to the headmaster's private chambers opened, the old wizard stepping into his office, standing there, as if paralyzed for a moment before he finally waved his wand and the alarm went off.

He stood there, stock still for another few moments before he sank down into the chair behind his desk, his face ashen and his hands shaking.

"Dobby." He quietly called the house elf that had been so loyal to the boy since his second year at Hogwarts and he couldn't stop the tears that stung in his eyes when he looked at the small creature Harry had freed back then.

"Yes, Master headmaster, sir?" Dobby asked with his usually squeaky voice, his ears flapping enthusiastically. "What can Dobby do for Master headmaster, sir?"

"Please, Dobby." Albus rasped, his voice shaking as did his fingers. "Go and fetch Minerva and Poppy, this instant. And best you fetch Filius as well."

"Of course, master headmaster, sir." Dobby squealed happily and with a soft 'pop' he was gone, leaving back an old and grieving man who had lost a boy he had seen as his grandson.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Mistress deputy headmaster, ma'am should wake up, ma'am." Dobby said, shaking Minerva's shoulder as if he had to wake a troll out of its hibernation. "Master headmaster sir is asking Mistress deputy headmaster ma'am to come to his office immediately, ma'am."

"Oh, you _tenfold_ blasted creature, would you cease this infuriating shaking this instant?" Minerva cursed loudly upon opening her eyes and trying to figure out what the racket was about. "I didn't come to Hogwarts to endure being shaken until the whiskey I've had a few hours earlier comes up again. So get your hands off me and tell me in clear terms what the meaning of this is. And you better have a good explanation as to why you are waking me in the middle of the night or you might find yourself … for Merlin's sake, just tell me what you want!"

"Master headmaster sir is asking Mistress deputy headmaster ma'am to come to his office immediately, ma'am." Dobby repeated and then vanished with a soft 'pop' before Minerva even could ask a question as to why Albus would …

Merlin!

Albus never would … not in the middle of the night … except for …

Shoving her blanket aside she swung her feet off the side of her bed and got up quickly. It was in the middle of the night and if Albus had felt the need to wake her during such an hour then surely they had found a way to get them out of the dungeons, or maybe they even were already out of there and …

Quickly she threw her bathrobe over her nightshirt and without even caring for her hair that fell over her shoulders loosely, she opened the door and left her quarters hurrying along the corridors towards the entrance hall, towards the stony gargoyle that guarded Albus' office, towards the headmaster.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was the first day since long that she didn't have one of the smaller children in her ward and so she had retired an hour ago. She had been reading the medical files of those children and of Severus again and again during the past few days, and yet – she couldn't resist going over them again, trying to judge whom of them had a chance and how long they would have a chance in the first place.

Harry Potter surely hadn't. And neither had Theodore Nott.

Ronald Weasley would last longer, as would Neville Longbottom, if that boy didn't manage to either get a cauldron exploded and killed himself in the act or to annoy Severus so much that the man finally would snap and kill the boy.

Shaking her head she sighed. Of course Severus never would kill the students, not even Longbottom or Potter and those two surely would be the first one to get the Potions Master annoyed enough to at least think of doing just this.

A house elf popping into her office where she had placed a cot so she could rest for a few hours here and there, startled her out of his thoughts and she looked up into the large eyes of Dobby.

"What is it, Dobby?" She asked. "Does any of the Lions need assistance?"

"No, Mistress madam Pomfrey, ma'am." Dobby said, flapping his ears. "Master headmaster sir is asking Mistress madam Pomfrey ma'am to come to his office immediately, ma'am."

"I'm coming." She said, getting off the cot she had been laying down only minutes earlier, knowing that either Albus finally had managed to get a heart attack or a breakdown with all his worries, or that the headmaster had finally managed to find a way down into the dungeons. She hoped it was the second.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Growling darkly with frustration Filius threw the quill onto the table, leaving ink spots on the parchments that scattered all the space that once had been free for essays to grade but now were filled with books, parchments and any other sources of information on wards. Even a copy of 'Hogwarts, a history' was laying there, open, the pages filled with not only the original words of the book but with his small and thin crawl he called his handwriting as well, notes he had taken over the past few days.

He was so close, he knew it, but each time he thought he had the answer to the riddle, he had to learn that in the end he was still wrong. And being wrong in this case, simply meant a death sentence for seventeen children and a teacher. He couldn't afford being wrong, not now, not with this – and yet … he still was. He still couldn't find a way down into the dungeons, he still couldn't find a way to overcome the wards, to lover them, or at least to evade them.

He rarely had slept the past nights, and neither had the others, he knew, especially not Albus and Minerva, but how could he sleep if he had so much reading material to go through? He even had excused his seventh years from classes and had handed them all reading material he could find to go through, hoping one of them would find some mentioning of Hogwarts' wards.

"Merlin!" He gasped, nearly falling off the chair he had been kneeling on in his rash to back away, holding both his hands pressed onto his chest.

"I'm sorry, Master Flitwick, sir." The house elf, Dobby, if he was correct, squealed. "Dobby didn't want to startle Master Flitwick, sir. But Master headmaster sir is asking Master Flitwick sir to come to his office immediately, sir."

Paling at the elf's words Filius hopped down the chair and without even throwing his cloak over his shoulder he hurried along the charms corridor towards Albus' office, knowing that if the headmaster called him at this our, this only could mean one thing – one of them were dead, maybe even all of them.

He simply knew that if he hadn't found a way to undo the wards, then most likely the headmaster hadn't found a way either – in other words they still were imprisoned.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"The wards have fallen." Albus gasped, his pale face shocked on his three colleagues.

"What!" Filius gasped in shock. "But that is great! How did …"

"But then what are we doing here, Albus?" Minerva asked exaggerated. "We should go down …"

"What are we waiting for then, headmaster?" Poppy asked, already turning to leave the office and to head down into the dungeons.

"No!" Albus shook his head. "No! Not the wards down in the dungeons." He led his head fall into his hands. "The wards around Private Drive." He murmured devasted. "The wards around Harry's home. They fell. Ten minutes ago."

"But … what does it … what does this mean, Albus?" Minerva asked, her face now pale too, her hands shaking and Poppy had to guide her to one of the armchairs or the woman would have fallen, she was sure of that.

"That means, Harry's dead." She whispered.

"How can you be so sure, Poppy?" Minerva gasped, looking up at her.

"Because I've been going over the medical files of them over and over again, and Harry's the worst of them. I knew he would be the first to …"

"If the wards fell, then they had become useless because the one person they had to keep safe is dead." Filius whispered, sitting down into another armchair. "Wards only hold as long as they need to keep the person they had been cast for safe, and if Harry is dead, the wards would recognize it and they would lower themselves as they have become useless. Otherwise we would have thousands and thousands of wards all over the world and barely an area would be approachable anymore."

"Is this true, Albus?" Minerva asked, her voice shaking, as if she needed the headmaster's confirmation to really believe the words her colleagues had spoken. "Is this really true?"

"I fear it is, Minerva." Albus answered. "Harry has died."

"And the others?" Filius dared to ask the question they all wanted to know an answer for but didn't risk asking, fearing the answer.

"I don't know." Albus said, his voice old, older than he ever had sounded, defeated. "Only Harry had wards around his house that would alert me if they fell. I can't tell for the others."

"If Harry died, then maybe Theodore has already died as well." Poppy whispered, not able to bring herself to use the sure name of the children, as she normally would do. "They both are the weakest and the thinnest. And I fear for Draco and a few of the girls on both houses."

"Albus, what do we do now?" Minerva asked, desperately.

"We go on with our researches." Filius growled darkly. "And we have to find a way to get at least the others out, to get at least as much as possible out of there." He didn't dare using the word 'alive', but they all knew what he meant, the word hanging in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.

"I will have to inform the ministry first thing tomorrow morning." Albus said. "Maybe they now will listen and give us a time tuner."

"I highly doubt this, Albus." Filius shook his head.

"Maybe if you … I wouldn't like to betray Harry like this, but if you told them that they have lost the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the one to defeat Who-Know-Who once and for all …"

"It would be in vain, Minerva." Albus sighed. "Fudge doesn't believe that Voldemort will come back one day. And right now I do not care about the prophecy either. Harry is dead and I will not speak of him in this way."

"You will have to go to the Dursleys, Minerva." Poppy finally said. "And inform them of their nephew's possible death. They should know about it and they should be given the chance to grieve. Or would you prefer if I go and inform them?"

Minerva sighed for a moment, realizing that those words made it so much true. Harry was dead. Harry Potter, her student, the boy that had gone through so much since he had arrived at Hogwarts, the boy he had baby sat from time to time, back, when Lily and James had been still alive.

She had fed him back then, had changed the boy's diapers, and she had carried him around, bouncing him in her arms until he had fallen asleep.

Those thoughts reminded him at the other person that had been close to Lily.

Severus.

Admitted, Severus disliked Harry, but she also knew that Severus often had been a guest at Lily's when James had been out of the house, and she even remembered Severus taking Harry from her arms when she hadn't been able to calm the hysterically crying baby. A few minutes of walking around, a few minutes of quiet words from Severus, little Harry had been asleep – until the moment Severus had tried to lay him back into his small baby bed.

Nearly laughing between her sobs and tears she remembered Severus walking up and down the hall the entire night to ensure that the infant had a good night's sleep.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Down in the dungeons Harry realized that he so long had been alone – aside from Ron and Hermione of course – but alone in the sense of … without an adult, without someone who really cared, who took responsibility for him, who … and now … now he really belonged, not only to the magical world, but also to the dark dressed man that was not only their Potions Master, but that was his father now.

They had been quiet for a long time, simply laying there, resting, basking in the feeling of simply holding and being held, but at one point or another during the night Severus lightly stroked through his son's hair.

"Thank you, Harry." He said.

Harry looked up at him, craning his neck since he lay with his back resting against his father's chest. "What for?" He asked, confused.

"For giving me another chance." Severus quietly said, running his fingertips over the boy's forehead. "I did not deserve it. I do not deserve you, and yet – you have given me just that. Another chance."

"That's not true." Harry said, wiggling in the Potions Master's grip so he could turn and he knelt beside the man. "That's not true! You … you … just don't say that … you do deserve this! You're a good person!"

"Hmm …" Severus made. "I'm sure you would have argued over this particular statement with yourself only a few days ago, you foolish child!" He added with a smile.

Well, a smirk, would perhaps be a better description to the lip that curled in a strange way, but he had seen several versions of Severus' definitions of a smile meanwhile, and he just knew that he never had seen this one before now. So – maybe it meant that Snape finally was happy? Maybe even as happy as he, Harry, was?

Finally noticing that all the others were still asleep he blinked and then looked over at his father.

"What time is it?" He asked, startled. It couldn't be too late if they all were still sleeping from their nap. How Snape had managed to get all of them asleep he still wondered. Normally at least a few of them were awake even if some others took a nap during the day.

"It's nearly one in the morning." Severus said, smirking again. "You have overslept the entire afternoon and evening."

"Merlin!" Harry groaned. "But I wasn't _that_ tired!"

"The adoption potion has been working in your system, Harry." Severus said. "It has worked all its way through your veins, through your heart, all your body parts, and that is an exhausting process, child. I knew that you would be out for the most part of the day, what is the reason I told you to lay down."

"So – now it's through all my body parts?" Harry asked. "The potion?"

"Yes." Severus answered. "The fact that you are awake now, and the magic we both have felt earlier, proves as much. The potion has worked and the adoption is valid. You are truly my son now."

"I wondered about that." Harry mused, getting off the mattress to get a glass of water from the sink. "The magic. It's not possible since ten days, and now we felt the magic, and … well, I'm not sure, but it felt so powerful … I mean, I have never felt anything like that before … and … dunno …"

"It _was _powerful, child." Severus seriously said, getting off their sleeping place and coming over to his son, taking the glass from his desk and taking a sip of the water too. "It was ancient magic you felt, magic that is responsible for creating families, for care, love and responsibility. Of course it was powerful, child, what is the reason as to why the ministry won't be able to interfere, never mind if the adoption is valid in their eyes or not, they won't be able to take you away from me. No one will be able to take you away from me now."

"Only death." Harry whispered, voicing his earlier thoughts and he turned towards the boy, took both his shoulders into a harsh grip and peered down into the pale face of his son.

"Yes." He said, his voice rough. "Only death, but I won't allow this to happen, child, is that understood? I won't allow this to happen, and you will fight death with tooth and nail, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Harry answered, swallowing havily at the man's determined words.

"Good." Severus growled. "And now you go back to sleep, you silly child! Your body needs rest!"

Turning so the Potions Master wouldn't see the smile that spread over his face at the man's use of the term 'silly child', he was almost back at his mattress when he glanced back. He might as well try it, he thought, nothing to lose now …

"Good night, dad." He quietly said, half hoping the Potions Master hadn't heard his words.

Severus however reached for his quill to finish his last entries in his journal, he would have to take notes about the magic the had felt, the potion settling in their systems, and without looking up, he said. "Good night, son."

And somehow Harry made it to his mattress without dying from complete shock. Not only had Snape not gotten angry at his words, but he had answered them, and he had answered with a 'son', not to mention that he had done so in a way as if it would be the most normal thing for the older wizard to do.

Snuggling into his pillow and blanket he couldn't stop his mind from working. He was fourteen now, and he would have another four years until he graduated. Well, he would of course be of age if he was seventeen, but didn't children live with their parents until the have graduated? And he would graduate in four years!

That meant, he still had four years left to enjoy life within a family, to … maybe even more. Some children stayed until they had finished an apprenticeship, so, until they were … about twenty, twenty-one. And surely he could stay too until then? Or would Snape …

No, somehow he doubted that his father would throw him out with seventeen, or even with eighteen. He had been so protective earlier, and so … so possessive even.

Of course, he knew that there would be no real reason for him to … well, why would he be staying with Snape, once he was of age? He would have his own house then, maybe a flat in London or a cottage in the country. And he would marry and he would have his own children then. And Snape surely wouldn't want him around until he was of old age …

Yet – as Harry snuggled into his pillow for the third time, he didn't understand why living on his own as an adult did not excite him as much as did the thought of living with Snape as an adult.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Half an hour later Severus sat beside Harry's makeshift bed and the child was almost asleep, looked up at him, smiling, the same smile the child had tried to hide while going back to his mattress, after he had used the term 'son', and he looked into the sleepy and tired green eyes, searched for something without knowing what exactly he was searching for. But he had no doubt about his decisions regarding Harry. He loved that child, his child.

"What spells have you woven over me, Harry?" He asked, leaning down and running his hand over the child's soft cheek, allowing himself a small smile at the contentment sigh from the boy that was about to fall asleep at that precise moment. How Harry had managed to worm his way into the depths of his soul so quickly – and so deeply, he would never know, but that was his Harry.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A cold hand settled over his wrist, taking it in a nearly painful grip, and Harry turned hastily, a word upon his lip. But the word – whatever it had been – froze at the sight that greeted him and suddenly he knew why the hand holding his wrist was so damn cold.

He looked into the dead face of Severus, waxen, the eyes open and glassy, empty, lost, whatever, and he simply knew that the man was dead.

"No!" He gasped. "No!"

That simply couldn't be! Snape had been fine a moment ago! Snape had adopted him only a few hours ago. He couldn't lose him so soon! He simply … that couldn't …

"No!" He screamed at the man, trying to shake him awake, trying to get him back to life, trying to do anything to have him back! Snape simply wasn't allowed to die! Not now! He needed him! He had promised …

He didn't notice the tears that ran down his cheeks, he didn't even notice the cold hand releasing his wrist and neither did he notice the heavy hand on his shoulder, shaking him, a deep voice calling his name, and a moment later he found himself in the arms that were not cold, that smelled of lavender and tangerine and something he couldn't place, that wrapped themselves around his body in a way that made him feel safe and that held him there, telling him that he was not alone.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_cupboards and the bathroom  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	18. cupboards and the bathroom

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He didn't notice the tears that ran down his cheeks, he didn't even notice the cold hand releasing his wrist and neither did he notice the heavy hand on his shoulder, shaking him, a deep voice calling his name, and a moment later he found himself in the arms that were not cold, that smelled of lavender and tangerine and something he couldn't place, that wrapped themselves around his body in a way that made him feel safe and that held him there, telling him that he was not alone. _

**Chapter ****eighteen**

**Day ****twelve – Friday****, thirteenth of September**

**Cupboards and the bathroom**

_When he looked up into Uncle Vernon's face, he kept his mouth shut. Cold, angry and loveless eyes stared back at him, just like they always looked at him.__ At five, Harry had been still little enough so that he wanted desperately to change his uncle's eyes, to have the man looking at him like he looked at Dudley. He wanted so much to be loved._

But he never could have that. He was only the freak. And he knew it.

_Unable to stop it, Harry's eyes gave way to tears as small sobs escaped his lips when Petunia entered the room and Harry couldn__'t help but look up with longing at her. He would like to get just a small hug, like Dudley, or maybe a nice word from her, an ice pack for his hurt knees or just a short touch on his cheek._

But he never could have that either. He always would be the freak. And he knew it.

_He would have liked to play with Dudley, to laugh with him, and to sit with him on the sofa in the living room to watch the telly. And he would have liked to share sweets with him. But the moment Dudley came to the kitchen, a small bag with candies in his hands, the other boy only laughed at him, while his parents screamed at him, Harry._

And he couldn't have that too. Because he never would be anything else than the freak. And he knew it.

Growing up with the Dursleys had taught him one lesson over the years – he never could have what he wanted and good things always got taken away. And now he was fourteen and he had learned not to show his joy over anything that could be used to hurt him later. It was with that reason in mind that he didn't want to admit that Snape had made him feeling loved – and that he had hurt him. The minute he did, even if it was only in his head, he would lose it all.

And yet, _that_ had happened – again. Because he only was Potter. And he should have known.

_"You have done it, uncle Severus! You have adopted Harry! The son of James Potter after all!"_

_"Do you really think I care about Potter?"_

Those words just had hurt and he remembered them as clearly as if they had been spoken right now. Not that his father had been mentioned. He long ago had learned that his father couldn't have been the saint everyone always said he had been. He long ago had learned that there had been a deep rivalry between Snape and his father, that his father had bullied Snape and that his father had married the only woman Snape ever had loved, and that his father had nearly killed Snape once. Lupin had told him so last year.

But it had hurt that he, Harry, still was just Potter, and that still there was no one who cared and the horrifying suspicion that he was being played with, that he maybe was tricked, continued to persist. He shut his eyes, and attempted to still himself, his trembling, his memories, his rocking, his … his everything! He even would have stopped his life, if that would have been so easy, just so he wouldn't have to feel the deep pain at those words anymore. Somehow, over the last week and a half he had managed to give in to the dangerous illusion that his Professor cared for him.

But that never could happen.

Because he only was Potter – because he only was the son of James Potter – because he was only the freak.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The mattress was empty and Harry was not beside it, and neither was he anywhere else in the room. Well, maybe the boy had just gone to the bathroom, and he sat back at the desk. He had gotten used to writing all the important things down in the late evening hours when the children slept so he would have time during the day to be there for them if they needed him, and he knew how important that was. And he would have time during the day to also watch them, just in case they tried anything stupid and tried to eat some of the remaining potions ingredients – of which only the poisonous ones were left by now.

Fifteen minutes later Snape frowned and he got up, left the classroom and went to the bathroom. He wouldn't do so normally, invading the children's privacy, but he knew how dangerously thin Harry was, how dangerously thin he had been in the beginning even, and now they were down here since eleven days and it meant that the child had barely had anything to eat since then. In fact he hadn't had _anything at all_ since two days now. Anything could have happened to Harry in the bathroom. He could have simply dropped and hit his head, he could have lost consciousness because the lack of food, he could have …

No, he better did not think of _that_!

Reaching the bathroom he found it – empty. No Harry, no child at all, and with a frown he went back into the classroom, peering into the kitchen on his way back, into the rest room behind his office …

But then his heart stopped for a moment. What if … throwing dignity out of the window he ran towards his laboratory, sure that he would find the boy in there, trying to find anything edible in there. But he only would find poisonous things in there! He would … and he was in there since more than fifteen minutes already! The child could be – surely _would_ be dead by now!

But the laboratory was empty. It was simply empty!

He couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief for a moment. The laboratory was empty. And that meant that the boy was still alive, but _where_ in Merlin's name was he?

Coming back to the classroom Snape looked around the room again, more closely now and his gaze fell toward the cupboard. He could see that one of the doors was halfway open and the tip of a worn trainer was peering out of it. A second time he breathed a sigh of relief.

The way the worn trainer peered out of the cupboard indicated that the child was not searching the small space for anything to eat, but that the child was _sitting_ in this cupboard. But – why?

_"You could be locked in a cupboard, couldn't you?"_

Harry's words spoken to Weasley during their first days came back to his mind and slowly he went over to the piece of furniture and now he could hear soft sobbing.

"Harry?" He quietly asked, trying to keep the strain out of his voice, not wanting to startle or frighten the boy. And he knew how easy the child could be startled or frightened – and with a reason so. But Harry kept sobbing, not moving, not acknowledging that he had heard him.

"What is the problem child?" Snape asked upon getting closer to the wardrobe and he opened the other door to be able to see the dark-haired child. He better did not ask what he was doing in this cupboard. Not yet at least.

Well, he had been right, and Harry simply was sitting in the cupboard, sobbing, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms placed above them, his face hidden in his arms. Snape knelt beside him and gently touched his leg to gain his attention, but Harry only flinched and the Potions Master removed his hand.

"What is it son, are you hurt?" He asked calmly, not sure where he took his calmness from.

Harry had his eyes closed trying to contain the tears and he could see that he was more than just upset. The teen denied with a shaking of his head.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He asked then, but Harry denied it also.

"What is the problem son?" He asked, frowning when the boy flinched at the word 'son' he had used. "Let's get you out of this cupboard and sit at your bed to talk …"

Again the boy shook his head at him, cutting him off.

"Do you plan on sleeping in the wardrobe? It's a little bit crowded, don't you think?" He then asked, trying to lighten the mood by making a joke even if he knew that it wasn't funny.

"My cupboard at number four was smaller."

'_Mr. H. Potter_

_The cupboard under the stairs_

_# 4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey'_

"You do know that you are not back at Privet Drive, don't you, Harry?" Severus asked seriously. The boy had not sounded as if his mind would linger there, he had not sounded as if he were lost in his memories. He was sure that Harry knew that he was at Hogwarts and in the potions classroom.

"Yes." Was all the teen answered and he drew his knees even more tightly towards his chest, wrapped his arms around them to pull them closer even. It was a protective pose that he knew Harry took unconsciously whenever he felt unsure or frightened, but without knowing what exactly had upset the boy in the first place, he only could guess.

"What happened, child?" He tried again and this time Harry looked up at him and a third time Severus sighed with relief. Harry acknowledged him at least. But then he nearly hitched a breath at the hurt and the fear in the boy's eyes and he knew that there was something deeper than simply hiding away in a small and dark space.

Harry looked up at the older wizard, watched the man's face that was set in his usual lines and he forced himself to finally give the man an answer, knowing that he wouldn't do any good if he stayed stubborn.

"But you don't care about me so it is of no matter, Professor." He choked out, hoping that he didn't sound as pathetic as he thought he sounded. "You don't have to … I mean … I know I am an unwanted and unlovable freak and that…"

"Stop talking!" Severus hissed angrily. "And please do so right now!"

The harsh hiss startled Harry and he fell silent, shocked, backing further away at the Professor's outburst, staring at Snape, knowing that he was in so much trouble now. That had been Snape's reason after all. He would have his perfect revenge now. He was his father now, he had control over him now, and he knew how to hurt him more than ever now.

Cursing himself Severus watched Harry who backed further into the corner of the cupboard as if he were expecting something and Severus knew exactly _what_ the teen expected, that he expected being beaten by him. He knew he had to bring his rage under control before he scared the boy even further away.

_"My uncle would beat me and lock me in my cupboard and aunt Petunia wouldn't let me eat anything for days."_

Again the boy's words came to his mind and he forced himself to calm down and to keep his temper under control.

"What exactly caused that foolish thought crossing that idiotic mind of yours, Mr. Potter?" He asked, trying to sound stern but not harsh, knowing that nothing that particular child felt or said was without a reason. Harry had every reason to fear being abandoned as he had been abandoned for all his life. And this particular child had every reason to fear being beaten or locked into a cupboard, as he had been beaten and locked away – in a cupboard, and without any food – for all his life.

The question took Harry off guard and he closed his eyes, sniffling. He tried to choke back the sob but it seemed since the dam had broken he couldn't stop crying and it was just the more frustrating. Snape only would know how he could hurt him more in future if he showed him his weaknesses.

_"So, your third rule is: no hiding of your weakness, exhaustion and pain and no teasing others with their weakness, exhaustion and pain either. Did I make myself clear?"_

But Snape didn't care! He had said so!

_"Good. Mr. Potter, you are to write this particular rule onto the blackboard."_

He knew why Snape had let _him_ write down this rule. And he knew that it was so he would remember it.

If the past few days and the adoption just never would have happened! It wouldn't hurt so much then! He wouldn't know … he wouldn't have had … if just … he wouldn't have _hoped_ …

"Why would you care?" He finally managed to choke out, pressing his eyes close as tightly as possible. "You _said_ you didn't want anything to do with me so why are you here now?"

Furrowing his brow Severus bent his head to one side questioningly, not understanding what exactly the boy meant. He knew that Harry didn't pull at something, that he _really thought_ he had heard him saying such a thing, but he couldn't remember having said those words.

"When did I say that, Harry?" He finally asked. "Where did you hear those words?"

"Earlier, in the office." The teen said miserably, looking away. "You were talking to Draco and you said that you wouldn't care about me, about Potter. That's what I am after all. Just Potter, just like I have been the freak back with the Dursleys."

"Merlin!" Severus exhaled sharply. He would need to be more careful with what he said in this boy's presence. But honestly, he had found out over the years that most people never focused upon the words spoken around them or forgot about them as soon as one had uttered them. But now he had to rethink as this child was just like himself.

_He_ focused upon the words and their meaning, what had made him such a gifted spy in the first place and Severus knew it was a habit learned early in childhood when one had to focus upon the words and how they were spoken, so he would know if it was safe to enter a room, to face an adult or if it were wiser to retreat and hide.

Sadly it was a habit they shared and he didn't like it one bit.

"Merlin!" He repeated, running his hand over his tired face. "Come here, you foolish child!" He said, reaching out and gently taking the teen's both upper arms to pull him out of the small space, to pull him close and he wrapped his arms around the boy the moment he had him out of the cupboard, careful of the delicate state the boy was in.

"Harry, you did not hear the _entire _conversation, as it seems." He said, running one hand over the boy's bony shoulder blades. "Draco has felt the change in both of us, and he has asked me if the adoption had gone well. And so I told him yes. He was so proud that I had adopted you of all people, you, the son of James Potter, the son of a man that had tormented me for years. And he had said so. And I have told him that I did not care about Potter. But I did not mean _you_, Harry. I did mean your father. I did not mean Harry Potter, but James Potter. And it is true. I do not care about James Potter and neither do I care about the fact that you are James Potter's biological son. I do _not_ want you to forget your father, he has sired you, he has loved you, and he has, in the end, given his life for you. Never forget this, child. But that does not diminish the fact that you are my son now too. And, considering your reaction you showed just now, I think that maybe it is time to do more and to change your last name from Potter into Snape, if this is amenable with you."

"You really would …" Harry started, looking up at him startled. "But I'm not worth …"

"You _are _worth just that, you foolish child!" The Potions Master growled darkly. "Listen, son. I do know what your family tried to tell you over the years, but that is not true. And if you can care for me, a man that has tormented you for years, then there is no way you are evil or bad or a freak. The Dursleys are the freaks here and their verbal abuse of you is just as evil as anything the Death Eaters spout. Their claim was just as evil as what the Dark Lord advocates. No matter how often the Dark Lord espouses his pure-blooded nonsense it does not make it true. And no matter how often your relatives preached _their _evil, it did not make it true either. You _are _my son, Harry, I _do _care for you and I will _always _want you, if you will have me?"

"Of course I do." The boy sobbed, hiding his face in his chest. "I just thought that I lost you and …"

"You did not lose me, you foolish child, and I do hope that you will learn that you absolutely _never _will lose me." Severus said, leaning back against the cupboard so that he could hold the boy more comfortable in his lap. "I also hope you do not plan on sleeping in this cupboard here frequently or else I will have to place some cushioning charms on its bottom. I am not a young man anymore."

"I'm sorry." The boy spoke into his chest, nearly clinging to him desperately. "I thought that I was going to lose you and I was so sad and I thought that … I mean … the cupboard always … but then it only got worse … and I couldn't … and …"

Frowning at the teenager's words he suddenly wasn't so sure anymore that Harry really had been aware of where exactly he had been a few moments ago.

"You do know that this situation here, in this classroom, is not the same one as being locked in a cupboard?" He carefully asked.

"I don't know." Harry shook his head against his chest and the Potions Master couldn't help taking a deep breath.

"You are not locked in here for punishment, child, but because of an accident. And you are not locked in here alone either. It is not your fault and no one has done so intentionally to hurt one of us. It just happened. And we will find a way out of here, I promise you that much. Somehow we will find a way out of here."

They sat there for a while before Severus finally released the boy and turned him on his lap, so he had him sitting in front of him, looking into the pale face.

"What got you so upset in the first place Harry?" He then asked. "And I do know that it has not been my words spoken to Draco only. I am sure that you are far too intelligent for that."

Startled Harry looked up into the dark eyes of the Potions Master, of the man that still wanted to be his father.

"Because you cared." He then murmured, unsurely, averting his eyes again.

Severus was at a loss to Harry's answer, he really hadn't expected that at all. But then again he didn't know what he really had expected. Reaching up he brushed his thumb over the boy's cheeks, brushing away Harry's tears but he needed a more clear answer.

"Explain." He simply said, piercing the teen in front of him with a serious gaze. He wanted that Harry knew that he would take it seriously, that he would not laugh, that he would not sneer, that he would not make a sarcastic comment.

"Because no one ever cared." Harry finally answered after a while and he could see the boy struggling for words. "And it was better that way, because I always knew what to expect. But then you started to care, and it … I never wanted it to end, but … you simply cared and that cannot happen, because the moment you stop caring it … you will forget me one day, I know it, because everyone does … and … well, I think it is better to never have loved than to have loved and then to have lost it."

"Not quite." He couldn't help saying, even if somehow deep down he could understand the boy's words, having felt the same way for a very, very long time as well. "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Tennyson, In Memoriam, 1850. Let me in, please." He then added and Harry looked up at him, startled. At the same time however, he could see such a fragile trust, contraire to the absolute trust he had seen in the same eyes just hours ago, and gently he pulled the boy close against his chest again.

"Let me into your mind, child, let me see what is bothering you so much." He said, and after a moment he could feel the boy in his arms relaxing, could feel a weak nod coming from the boy's head against his chest, and gently he placed his hand over the damp forehead of the trembling child in his arms. He would not go the regular way of using legillimence, he would not invade while looking into the boy's eyes, he would do so while placing his palm over the child's forehead, knowing it would be less painful and less frightening as he would be able to comfort the boy at the same time.

_"You fucking freak!" He heard a man's booming voice screaming in a room that was ahead of him and slowly he walked along the corridor at the ground floor at what he guessed was number four, Privet Drive.__ "How dare you drawing us as your family! You're not our family! You're nothing than a little freak, a fucking little freak that is stealing our time, our money, our food and our space! You're not worth the space you're taking and you're not worth the air you're breathing! We should have dumped you in a lake with a stone on your feet when those people dumped you on our doorsteps because they too didn't want you! No one could ever want you! No one could ever love you! But we have to put up with you and you are complaining that I now have to try and to beat the freakishness out of you! You ungrateful little thing you!"_

_The louder the man__'s voice grew when he came closer to the room ahead of him, the more the man screamed at Harry and the more trash that came out of his mouth, the louder the other sounds got, sounds of something hitting flesh accompanied by soft sobbing and stifled screams, the sicker Severus felt and he realized that his son must have lived with these lies all his life and that this was the reason as to why he so easily believed them. He finally reached the kitchen where he saw a bloody beaten child on the floor and the walrus of a man hitting him with a cane, not letting up. It looked like the boy had been in that position for awhile._

_A children's picture lay on the kitchen table, drawn with crayons, a large man with a moustache, a thin woman with a long neck and a bulky boy with blond hair. Beside the boy there was another boy, a small and skinny one with black hair, and it was clear who the family in the picture was. Another picture was taped to the fridge, a family of three, the Dursleys, probably the one Harry's cousin had drawn, leaving the black-haired boy out as if Dursley junior already had known that Harry didn't belong into the family and as he saw it, they'd had to draw their families in pre-school. _

_Nothing else Harry had done than that what his teacher had expected him to do, and now he was beaten for it by his uncle, because he had drawn the only family he had known, as vile this family had been._

_The boy on the ground had become still, and the fat man grabbed a bloodied and bruised arm and simply pulled the boy after him, throwing him into a small cupboard that was built into the wall under the stairs and he could see yes, this cupboard really was smaller than the one that was in his potions classroom. _

Retreating slowly he pressed the small and thin body even closer to his chest, wordlessly, since he simply didn't know what to say to such violence and he could feel the tremors coursing through the small body, tremors that were not only because of the coldness down here but making clear to the Potions Master how much terror the child felt.

Lifting the small body into his arms easily his heart clenched at the thought of how afraid this little child was, for even though he was a teenager of fourteen years, emotionally he just was that, a little boy, and Severus' not existing heart hurt for him while he carried him towards the mattresses where the others already slept peacefully, laid him down and simply lay behind him, keeping the boy within his arms until he fell asleep.

"I _won't_ forget about you." He whispered. "I won't abandon you. And I won't hurt you." He promised the now too sleeping child.

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He hadn't slept much last night. At first he hadn't been able to fall asleep anytime soon, had been laying on Harry's mattress, his son in his arms, watching him, thinking, not able to take his eyes off the child. And then he had woken early, remembering the night, remembering the horrors this child had been through, and he hadn't been able to go back to sleep, again watching the child, again thinking while running his hand through the boy's messy hair.

The boy had, after waking, looked at Severus with wide eyes that held such fear that the Potions Master had thought for a moment the Dark Lord must have appeared behind him – or maybe Vernon Dursley – he doubted that the two made any difference to the boy.

"I am sorry, sir." The boy finally said, looking at him with large and haunted eyes. "Because of yesterday. I've made a terrible mistake and I can understand if you don't want to …" It was clear that the boy took all his strength together to get the words out and the thin face was even paler than it normally was nowadays, a fine film of perspiration covering the forehead and the little muscles that were left on the bony fingers twitching with nerves. "… I mean, if you don't want to have me anymore."

"Harry." Snape started, sighing, watching the child for a long time. "I would not have adopted you, if I would give up on you so easily. An adoption is nothing that can be held up one day and thrown away the other day. It was a permanent decision we have made yesterday. You are my son now, never mind what and I _do_ want you."

"But I've made a mistake!" The boy said stubbornly.

"What mistake have you made, Harry?" He asked seriously. "You have done nothing wrong. You have not made a mistake."

"I have!" The stubborn child insisted. "I have mistaken your words towards Draco and I have …"

"Yes, you have mistaken my words." Severus said, still seriously. "But only because you have not heard the entire conversation I have had with Draco and only because Vernon Dursley has destroyed every ounce of trust you once might have had. It was not your fault and I will not have you blaming yourself for the evilness your relatives have bestowed upon you."

"But I should not have blamed you of … I should not have mistrust you, that was not appropriate and I …"

"Do you really think that in such a situation, such as ours, there are rules for what is appropriate and what is not?" He asked, not knowing how he could make it clear to the boy. "While I do not like it that you are not able to trust easily, I do understand it. And I do not blame you for anything, so please, do stop blaming yourself."

"But … but I … I don't want to be so stupid all the times, and so … so …" The boy drifted off, not knowing what to say, how to describe his emotions and Severus sighed.

"How is it that you count a mistake higher than a good thing?" He asked. "You have done a lot of good, you foolish child, yet you do not see it, you do not allow yourself to see anything else than a mistake you might have made."

"Because the good things are over in a flash, a mistake lasts a lifetime." The fourteen year old teenager he still held in his arms finally said and he couldn't deny the truth of the child's word. A truth many adults would not see. But this boy did, this boy that could be like a three year old one moment and like a threehundred year old another moment.

He however did not like the fact as to _how_ the boy had come to this conclusion. With beatings, starvation and being locked away in a cupboard for only Merlin knew how long. With hateful words and growing up in a loveless house, without any physical or mental comfort any child needed and craved for, with relatives that used him as a slave and nothing else – with pain.

His anger must have been clearly visible on his face, considering the teen's reaction, trying to get away from him, and he tightened the hold he had on the boy, tried to get his composure back under control.

"You will stay right here where you are." He growled before he got serious again. "It is not your fault that you have been abused, Harry." He then said. It is not your fault that you react in this way either. Do not forget this. Do _never_ forget this. None of this is your fault, and you have made no mistake."

Again there were no further words between them for a long time, just like during the night before when he had not known what to say to the brutally he had seen in the boy's mind, speechless at the brutally he had witnessed, bestowed upon a child that couldn't have been older than four or five years old, considering that the boy had attended pre-school for only half a year because his relatives had feared that their abuse on the boy would be discovered.

How could anyone bestow such a brutally upon a child so young? How could anyone deny food to a hungry child? How could anyone ignore a child's pleas for something to eat? Or how much brutally had someone to bestow upon a child until said child wouldn't beg for something to eat anymore despite the pain hunger caused? How could anyone beat a child until it was an unconsciously and bleeding mass? Until deep and long scars were left covering said child's back? How could anyone be deaf to the cries of a child in such pain? Or how long did such brutally have to take place until said child had learned to suppress his cries despite the pain?

And again he was speechless, horrified and again his fingers that stroke over the boy's pale face trembled.

"Sir?" Said boy asking got him out of his thoughts and he looked down into the green eyes.

"I wanted to ask you something." Harry said hesitantly.

Still not really trusting his voice Severus nodded encouragingly.

"Yesterday you … you called me … well, _'son'_." Harry began nervously and Severus waited, but the boy just bit his lip and stared at his clasped hands.

"Well, you are my son now, aren't you?" Severus prodded gently when it was clear that the boy would not continue on his own.

"Uhm … well … yes …" Harry started to stutter, squirming in the Potions Master's arms. "I mean … if you … then … I mean … would you … may I …"

"I would be very honoured." Severus said, knowing what Harry wanted to know and at the same time knowing that Harry simply didn't know how to ask such a question. And how should the child know how to form such a question? He never before had _had _someone whom he could have asked such a question, after all.

Some of Harry's fear and emotional pain, misery, lifted and he found himself smiling a little.

"Really?" He asked, nearly startled.

"Well, I am your father now, am I not?" Severus confirmed seriously. "Me, the evil dungeons bat, the most hated teacher here at Hogwarts, being a father, imagine!" He added jokingly.

"Thank you … dad." The boy said shyly, trying the word on his lips.

Severus' lips quirked upwards, too. "I should be the one thanking you, son. It means a great deal to me, the fact that you – despite everything you have been through – that you nevertheless are ready to trust me, Harry, that you actually want to acknowledge me as your father."

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"Sir!"

"Uncle Severus!"

"Professor!"

"SIR!"

"Professor Snape!"

The shouts of different children came through the open door of the office and he immediately knew that something wasn't as it should be. They sounded as if something had happened, they sounded frightened, scared, and he hurried through his office and back into the classroom. Draco already came running towards him, pale and a startled expression on his face and he simply took his hand and started pulling him out of the classroom into the direction of the corridor that led to the bathroom and he understood, started running by himself after taking Draco on both his shoulders to gently shove him out of his way.

Harry!

Harry had gone to the bathroom for a shower after the others had taken _their_ shower. He always took his shower either before anyone was awake, or he was the last one to shower and Severus knew exactly why.

He had taken the key from the bathroom a few days ago, after Theodore had dropped in there. He'd really had troubles getting the door open without magic, with muggle methods only to reach the boy and directly after that he simply had taken the key and had locked it in his desk in his office. The other children didn't mind, really, but Harry did, afraid of anyone coming in to take a shower too and seeing him in there, especially his scars.

Since days now he had tried to convince the boy that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't have to be ashamed of them, that his relatives should feel ashamed, but not he, and still the boy felt that way.

Reaching the bathroom he didn't even have to open the door, one of the other children – most likely Draco or Theodore – who had found Harry laying on the floor had left it open and he hurried inside, knelt beside the still form of his son and for a moment he feared that he might be too late, that Harry might be …

Gritting his teeth he reached out and placed the fingers of his right at the boy's neck, feeling for a pulse and with a sigh of relief he closed his eyes. There was one. Weak, but present.

"We were in the kitchen, waiting for Harry." Draco quietly said. "He said he would come as soon as he had his shower, but he never came and then we heard the _'thud'_ and we went in the bathroom."

"We know that he doesn't like it." Theodore quickly added. "But we've been worried and …"

"It is alright, Theodore." Severus quietly said while rubbing the fragile body of his son dry with the towel that was anything else than dry itself. It would have to do, it would be better than wrapping the completely wet boy into his cloak. It just was too cold down here and he had to keep them all as dry and as warm as possible. "I am glad that you looked, Theodore, do not worry."

Pulling his cloak from his shoulders he wrapped the boy into the warm fabric and carried him back into the classroom where he laid him onto the mattresses and covered him with his blanket, noticing that again his hands shook, his fingers trembling with fright and only slowly his own heartbeat slowed down.

He had known that this would happen. Draco had already dropped a few days ago, as had Theodore, and it had been a tiny miracle that Harry had lasted so long, Harry, who was the worst of them.

He took a look at the boy's scars while he was at it, noticing with some satisfaction that at least Harry's injuries had healed without any complication, the scars a soft red now, some of them a soft pink, but none of them had gotten infected. He also checked the boy's other vitals, frowning at the soft rattling that still was audible coming from his lungs and he didn't quite know what to make out of this one. It hadn't gotten any better and neither had it gone worse.

If the lungs were infected, then it would have gotten worse by now, the potions accident had been days ago by now after all, but they hadn't. Yet – neither had they gone better yet.

Sighing and still frowning he checked the rest of the boy's body, just to be sure, but he found nothing aside from the frightening seriously underweight. Well, he at least now knew that there wasn't anything wrong with Harry aside from the lack of nutrition. The problem however was that – he couldn't change _that_. If there had been something else wrong with the boy, he – maybe at least – could have done something, he maybe could have given Harry a potion, but he had nothing to give the boy for his lack of nutrition.

Even the nutrient potions he gave them didn't work as they should, as there simply was nothing those potions could work with. Those potions only delayed the inevitable, nothing more.

"Sir?" Came Harry's small and frightened voice, getting him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the child, slowly reaching out to place his hand on the boy's chest, preventing him from even trying to sit up and hoping he would not frighten the boy any further with the movement. He had seen the boy losing consciousness due to a beating from his uncle and he only could guess how often the boy had woken in this blasted cupboard after being beaten to a bloody pulp by the man. "What happened?"

"Hush, child." He said, trying to sound calmly. "Don't sit up yet. You have lost consciousness in the shower. Did you hit your head or anything else? Does anything hurt?"

"No." The boy stubbornly claimed and Severus knew that it was a lie the moment Harry shook his head to convince his words, wincing at the movement and he lifted his eyebrow at the brat. "My head." The boy had the courtesy to add at the disbelieving look he sent him. "A bit."

"Do you feel dizzy?" Severus asked, running his hand over the boy's forehead, shoving strands of black hair out of the pale face. "And do not lie to me. Do not hide your physical state from me, Harry. This is far too serious."

"A bit." The boy admitted reluctantly, averting his eyes.

"Look at me." Severus commanded, grabbing the boy's chin and turning his head so he had to look at him. "Follow my finger with your eyes."

He moved his forefinger from one side to the other in front of the boy's eyes and watched them following the movement. Satisfied he held up four fingers in front of the boy's face.

"How many fingers do you see?" He then asked.

"I'm fine, sir, please." Harry groaned embarrassed.

"Harry, please." Severus said. "I might be a Potions Master and therefore I also might be a healer, but without magic that could help in a diagnostic, only to some extend. I am not a healer completely and neither am I a specialist. I only can do so much without magic. So please, do try to cooperate."

"I'm sorry, four." Harry finally said, giving a sigh. "I'm fine, really."

"You are far from fine." Severus growled darkly. "And I am not ready to take any risks. You do not have a concussion, I believe. Did you hit your head or anything else when you fell?"

"Uhm … I don't think so." Harry answered.

"Alright." The Potions Master finally said, leaning back and sighing. "I want you to stay in this position for at least an hour or two before you get up. And I won't allow you to take a shower alone from now on."

"What?" Harry asked startled. "But …"

"There are no buts, Harry, this is final." Severus growled darkly. "And it is not up for discussion. You won't take a shower alone from now on and neither will the rest of you. You will choose a partner for taking a shower. You boys can ask for my assistance if you are not comfortable with each other, but you won't go alone. I have to apologize to the girls that we do not have a female teacher down here right now. You will have to pair with another girl. I don't want to see one of you taking a shower alone. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Came the answers from the children and he looked at Harry who bit his lower lip at his words.

"Harry?" He asked, his black eyes piercing the boy.

"Yes, sir." The boy answered and he gave a satisfied nod.

"Good." He said. "Whomever I find disobeying this particular rule, will find him- or herself writing a three parchment essay about responsibility."

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_potions and history  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	19. potions and history

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"This is final." Severus growled darkly. "And it is not up for discussion. You won't take a shower alone from now on and neither will the rest of you. You will choose a partner for taking a shower. I don't want to see one of you taking a shower alone. Did I make myself clear?"_

_"Yes, sir." Came the answers from the children and he looked at Harry who bit his lower lip at his words._

_"Harry?" He asked, his black eyes piercing the boy._

_"Yes, sir." The boy answered and he gave a satisfied nod._

_"Good." He said. "Whomever I find disobeying this particular rule, will find him- or herself writing a three parchment essay about responsibility."_

**Chapter ****nineteen**

**Day thirteen – Saturday****, fourteenth of September**

**Potions and history**

They didn't have anything left to eat, and it was their _fourth_ day now that they didn't have anything left to eat. He had spared a bit of the tea so they had been able to drink half a cup during the past two days here and there, but this as well – they didn't have anymore. Well, at least they had water for all eternity, as it seemed. Or at least until they died.

Gritting his teeth and forcing himself to _not_ think about that right now, he entered the laboratory to get a jar of grempyard powder from one of the shelves. He had taken the powder from his stocks in his laboratory two weeks earlier and placed it in the students' cupboard for the seventh year students to brew the antidote for a snake poison. But right now he needed the highly poisonous powder to mix it with the herbals for some kind of an anti cramping potion.

He had only a few vials of the relaxing potion left, but some of the children, and Harry being one of them, needed something to ease the cramps in their stomachs and in their limps. He had only four vials of dreamless sleep potion left too, but there was nothing he could use for brewing another batch. He had nutrient potions left for five days, including today, and after that – well, after that he only could hope, something that did not sit well with him.

But well, right now, he would have to brew a new batch of the anti cramping potion, and he would have to improvise with this one already as he didn't have all of the herbs he normally would need to use in this potion left. And some of the herbs he would have to use instead of the original ones – were quite poisonous, what was the reason he needed the grempyard powder for, to function as an antidote as it was poisonous alone but not only lost its poison if mixed together with other poisonous ingredients but cleared the poison of the other ingredients as well.

He only could hope that this potion would help as well as had the original anti cramping potion, he didn't know yet.

The moment he entered his laboratory he halted mid-step however, one hand still resting on the door handle and his face only slowly started to darken with anger after the first moments of shock and disbelief.

The Gryffindor at the same time licked his suddenly dry lips, watching his teacher's face closely. Snape appeared shocked, unable to come to terms with what he was seeing. One hand was still resting on the door handle and Snape had frozen – but then he finally released the door handle and came over, quicker than he liked the man coming close and from one moment to the other he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked from the cupboard that held all the potions ingredients.

"Have you ingested anything from this cupboard yet, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously low the moment he had the stupid Gryffindor standing in front of him and he grabbed his chin, turned his head upwards so that he could look at the pale face closely. He wasn't entirely sure if the idiot boy was pale because he was down here since two weeks now, without food, if he was pale because he really had taken some potions ingredients and was about to get ill, or if he only had paled because he had to face an angry Potions Master.

The boy shook his head quickly, and Snape narrowed his eyes at him, turning his head again to have a closer look at the boy's eyes. They looked hungry, as hungry as …

Gritting his teeth Snape's anger lessened a bit and he sighed. The child had acted foolish, yes, but he was just hungry, as hungry as they all were. But honestly, Longbottom! Of all people it had been _Longbottom_ who had tried such a foolish move, the one student that wouldn't be able to differentiate between poisonous and not poisonous ingredients, even if he still _had_ some left in his laboratory that were not poisonous.

The boy's frightened brown eyes were alright at least, as was the pale skin and his breathing, apart from the fact that it was too quick, what probably just was because of his fear, and without releasing the boy's chin he grabbed the small wrist with his other hand, searching for a pulse and noticing that it was – even if slow and not as strong as he would have liked – steady.

Wordlessly he shoved his hand into the boy's pockets of his Jeans, just to make sure that the idiot child had not taken something for later. Finding nothing he nearly sighed with relief.

"Sit at this desk, Mr. Longbottom." He darkly said, pointing to one of the desks the students normally would be brewing at. He followed the boy with his eyes, ensuring that he really sat down before he turned towards the cupboard.

He quickly went over the ingredients he had stocked here and he breathed another sigh of relief when he noticed that – as far as he knew at least – nothing was missing. As it seemed, he had been quick enough to catch the boy before he could have done something irreversible and end up dead.

In the end he probably would end up dead anyway, but not yet, and there still was the chance that …

As minimal as this chance were by now.

Grabbing the ingredients he needed he went to his own workstation and laid them out, shoving his troubling thoughts out of his mind. He had a potion to brew, a potion they needed and he had to keep his mind clear. As clear as possible in their current situation at least.

"Come over here, Mr. Longbottom." He growled, and once more he simply refused to think of what could have happened if the idiot child had eaten any of the available ingredients.

Slowly the boy came over, stood at the other side of the workstation and watched him warily.

"I'm sorry, sir." He quietly said and the Potions Master looked up at him momentarily. "Really. I just … I mean …"

"Shut up, you idiot child!" He couldn't help growling. "Cut these roots into slices and lay them aside in a jar." He said, concentrating on grinding the beetle carapaces. He only watched over to the boy every now and then, noticing how nervously he moved – yet again, and he suppressed a frustrated sigh. But surely he wouldn't let the boy going back into the classroom and out of his sight yet. _If_ he had eaten any ingredient from that cupboard, he would have to observe the boy for any signs that might develop later.

Not that there was much he could do if the boy _had_ eaten anything, but not having him within eyesight right now would be irresponsible and negligent.

"These carapaces are highly poisonous." He started to explain. "If you had ingested them, if you had just licked your fingers after touching them, you would be dead within seconds. I normally keep this cupboard locked when not present at the laboratory, but without the ability of using magic, this simply is not possible right now and I have to trust that you follow my instructions."

"Is this the reason you grind them yourself?" The boy asked.

"Exactly." Snape answered. "Potions can be a really interesting and important subject. A potion can heal, and a potion can safe your life. But a potion as well can kill you. The same it is with plants, Neville. A plant can have healing effects, a plant even can safe your life, but a simple plant as well can kill you. I am sure you do know this, child. There is no big difference between herbology and potions, aside from the fact that for potions you do not only need plants but animals as well."

"And then all the stirring and heating." The boy said while continuing to slice the roots.

"Yes, I did notice that you had most problems with that." The Potions Master smirked. "It however is rather easy if you know that a stir clockwise will only mix the ingredients, while a stir counter-clockwise will add your magical signature to the potion, making it more potent or working at all in the first place."

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"Potter!" Snape snapped upon entering the kitchen. Did none of them use their brains before acting today? What was wrong with them today? Or what was wrong with this day? "Come here!"

Harry at the same time cringed.

Whenever the Potions Master called him by his surname, he felt his heart stop. He expected Snape would come to his senses and begin to hate him again at any moment, and when he called him _'Potter'_, then he always thought that this moment had finally come.

Slowly he went over to the man.

Severus stood in the entrance door to the kitchen, his hands held behind his back, straight – despite the weakness he too started to feel – and he watched his son moving towards him, slowly, hesitantly, nearly scared, and he tried to soften his gaze a bit. The boy only had tried to get his mind off his worries.

"If I remember correctly, and I am sure that I do, then I have forbidden you to do kitchen duty any longer." He said.

"I haven't done." The boy quietly answered. "I only bid company to Gregory and Vincent."

"I am sure that those two would have managed the task without you, child." He said, his voice gentler. "I do not know why in Merlin's name kitchen duty is done only if you are present."

"Because he's fun." Gregory said and he couldn't help lifting his eyebrow.

"Without him it's boring." Vincent added. "Dunno why."

"That might be." The Potions Master sternly said. "But your health is more important to me than is kitchen duty or entertainment. And your health, young man, is worse than the health of the others. I rather would not have you out of the classroom, my office or the rest room at all."

Extending his hand he placed his arm around the Gryffindor's shoulders and simply led him out of the kitchen and along the corridor to his office and from there back into the classroom.

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"Why is it that in the books there are more subjects than the goblin wars while Professor Binns never gets past them?" Harry asked, shaking his head. He had led the boy back into the classroom and Harry had gone to their _'common table'_ and had taken out his history book.

They had started to choose one class each day and today it was history. He surely wouldn't force any student to actually partake in their – well, classes. Some of them were sleeping and he wouldn't wake them for a lesson that could be their last anyway. But he also knew that it was important to them having something to do if they so wished. And so he at least offered those classes to them. Who wanted to partake, could do so. They simply could read their text books and they could discuss the subjects.

"The goblin wars had been the last subject Professor Binns had taught before dying and so he simply is not able to get past them." Severus answered. "What subject would be the next in your books?"

"The second world war and the role wizards played in it." Granger, Hermione, answered.

"May I have a look, Hermione?" He asked, startling the girl with his easy use of her given name and he nearly smirked when the girl blinked at him in shock while he extended his hand. Slowly the Gryffindor girl got off the chair and came over, nearly looking warily at him as if she feared he would destroy her book.

He took a quick look at the subject and then handed the book back to the girl. The subject was known to him. As a head of house he had each book of each class and year in his office as well after all.

"Well, then read the chapter and afterwards we may discuss it." He said, getting off the chair and getting his own copy of the book to read.

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Somehow he didn't know what to make of the man.

Sometimes Snape could be so gentle, while at other times he was back to his snarky self.

Neville had come out of the laboratory, together with Snape earlier, and he had told them what had happened, and that Snape hadn't even skinned him alive for trying to find something – _anything_ edible in his ingredients cupboard. He only had kept him to watch him, and he had him cutting roots. And Neville had told them that he even had enjoyed this task, that Snape had explained things to him.

And at other times he could be so – back to … something …

Like when he called him – Potter.

He stopped thinking about the Professor and went back to reading, but still he had a hard time focussing on his history text. Something was bugging him too much and unable to stay quiet any longer he looked over at the man again. Professor Snape was reading, like they all were. But he looked comfortable. Not as stiff and as reserved like he used to, but really comfortable, nearly relaxed, and that alone was a fact that nearly startled him.

"Uhm … Professor?" He quietly asked, waiting until the older wizard looked over at him. "I just wanted to ask … well, you know, when you talk to me … uhm … if you're happy – I mean, not angry …" He quickly added. "… well, then you call me Harry, or foolish child. But … well, when you get annoyed, I at once turn into 'Mr. Potter' and then, when you're really mad, I even become 'Potter'."

"I see." The older wizard said, a thoughtful look on his face.

Severus was well aware that not only Harry watched him, but Hermione, Ronald, Neville and some his Slytherins as well, but knowing that this was important, he laid the book aside and gave his attention to the boy fully.

"And now you fear that each time I use your surname, you would revert back to a person I used to dislike whenever I am angry." He simply stated.

When the boy didn't respond but looked down instead, he walked up to him and pulled a chair from the table, sat close to him. But Harry still averted his eyes and so he simply took hold of the chair the boy sat in and turned it so he had the teenager facing him. Gently he took the boy's trembling hands into his own and studied them for a while, the thing fingers that always had been slender but were bony now, the numerous cuts that covered them and he only could guess that they were from cooking for his blasted relatives while he himself had not been allowed to eat any of what he had prepared for them.

It really was no wonder that the boy did not value himself, that he thought so low of himself, that he was as unsure as he was.

"I do think, you foolish child, that it is time we put my earlier thought into action and you become Harry Snape." He said, ignoring the startled gasps from the other children around them. Harry looked up at him sharply, so – he at least had gotten a reaction out of the child. "You are my son now, Harry, definitely, and no one can change that. Not you, not me, not the headmaster – even if I highly doubt that he would even _try_ to change that, knowing him, this damnable twinkling in his blue eyes would only increase if he knew – and not even the ministry. You are my son, and therefore you have the right to take on my family name – if this is amenable with you."

"If this … amenable … but … _of course it is_!" The boy stuttered before nearly shouting the last words and – in his foolish Gryffindor rash – throwing his arms around his neck.

"Then be it, Mr. Snape." He growled darkly but folded his arms around the skeletal body nevertheless, pulling the child close. "I however would prefer it if you would not strangle me, you foolish child."

"Sorry." The boy said, releasing him, but it was plain that he was _not_ sorry, not in the slightest, because he was grinning at him from ear to ear and it was strange that the sight of this happy face was one he wanted to burn deeply into his own mind, so deep that he would remember it, never mind what, that he never ever would forget it.

And he – he, Severus Snape, evil dungeons bat, the Potions Bastard of Hogwarts, _he_ had caused that happy face. It was a thought that nearly robbed his breath for a moment.

"Cool." Was heard from Draco and from Theodore while others smiled as well, or at least nodded their heads. The only one of the present children who did not look too happy, was Ronald Weasley, but he did not really care about that. Weasley would have to accept this little fact.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

They were back to reading, and the classroom was silent, all of them concentrating on the text in front of them – or sleeping, and therefore he was not really prepared of Hermione grabbing her history book and starting to hit his son with it. Harry tried to fight off the attack by holding up his arms to block her blows, but the girl only redirected her hitting.

Frowning he got off the chair by his desk and walked over to them.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger, Mr. Snape?" He drawled in his best silky voice from behind them.

Well, the effect was immediate. The girl ceased his hitting, stopping mid movement, the book hovering in the air above the boy's raised arms and Harry slowly coming forth from behind his arms he had drawn over his head for protection. He just was not sure if it had been his sudden appearance, his drawl, or his use of _'Mr. Snape'_ that had them stopping their actions so quickly.

"I only said that Voldie had a lot in common with this Hitler guy." Harry said, his tone of voice apoletically.

"It would be wiser if you tried to remember the dates and names instead of going on speculations." Hermione said, the book still hovering mid-air.

"History is not just names and dates, Hermione." Severus shook his head, sitting onto the edge of the table they were sitting at, facing the students while he took the boy on his arms to look for bruises the girl might have caused with her book, ignoring her guilty look. "What made you doing this analogy, Harry?" He then asked.

"Well, both wanted to overtake power over the world, both did terrible crimes to reach their goal, both were insane, and both were hypocrites." The boy answered and he lowered his head questioningly, encouraging the boy to go on while he pulled out a bruise salve he meanwhile always carried with him in his cloak.

"Well, Hitler had a thing with the German race, but he was an Austrian, and Voldie has a thing with the pure bloods while he is a half blood himself." The boy answered after looking at him unsurely. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical? And both did horrible crimes, killed a lot of innocent people."

"You are right, Harry." Severus said while rubbing the salve over the bruise that was forming on the boy's right lower arm. "You however better never mention this in front of the Dark Lord if you ever have the misfortune to stand in front of him one day. I am sure he would not appreciate it, being compared to a muggle. You, Miss Granger, Hermione, are correct in some ways as well. One should at least remember the dates, names and countries to some point so they knew what happened when, where and who were involved. But not only the when, where and who are important but the what and why as well. Those are the five w-questions that are important when it comes to history. And while the when, where and who are important, it is from the what and why we can learn from. And only if we learn from the past, then we won't make the same mistakes twice. Our past, our roots, our ancestors and what they did or what happened to them is important. If we do not know our past, then we do not have a past at all, and if we have no past, then we do not really live, we only exist, because we have no present, and if we have no present, then there will be no future for us."

"Well, then maybe Voldie should have paid more attention in history." Harry said darkly.

"I doubt that he would have learned anything from history." He said. "Never mind how many wizards had tried to safe muggles back during the second world war."

"The book mentions only Britain." Hermione frowned. "Has there been other nations who tried to keep the war as bloodless as possible?"

"They have come from all over the world." Severus answered. "From Britain, America, Russia, Germany, France, Spain, China, Japan, India, Africa … and they all tried to keep the second world war from getting out of hands. They tried to safe people, never mind if they were wizards or muggles."

"But why did this war start in the first place?" Draco asked, his brows furrowed and Snape could see that he didn't understand. He knew why the Dark Lord had started the first wizarding war, but the second world war hadn't been started by a wizard because of a pure blood status.

"Because of the same reason the first wizarding war had started, Draco." He answered. "Prejudices, narrow-mindedness, discrimination and intolerance. Because some people thought themselves better than others. In one point Harry is right – the Dark Lord and – this Hitler guy, as he put it so eloquently, really had a lot in common."

"And why did the Germans follow this guy if he wasn't even German?" Neville asked. "How was he able to come into so much power?"

"The Germans had been desperate." Severus answered. "They didn't have much, many of them had been without work and Hitler promised work to all of them, promised better times for them. And after he really got them work, such as building the highways in Germany for example, they believed him. He also had the ability to affect and then to control people – just like the Dark Lord. People noticed too late that the situation had got out of hands and that he had been a madman. Why is it that the Dark Lord had been able to get so much followers?" He then asked.

There were many faces that looked uncomfortable at the question. Well – many of them knew that he once had been a Death Eater, some of them, like some of the Slytherins, even believed that he still was one and he was sure that some of them knew the answer but didn't dare to give it, not in his presence at least.

"It had been for the same reasons." He finally said. "Prejudices, narrow-mindedness, discrimination and intolerance, because some people thought themselves better than others and because the Dark Lord as well had been able to affect people and to control them. And because again – people had noticed too late that the situation had gotten out of their hands and that he had been a madman. The Dark Lord too has promised things that would make the wizarding life more comfortable, more safe. And many of the old pure blood wizards had believed him."

Harry was mesmerized by the Potions Professor. Snape started talking about history as if he never had taught anything else than this class and for the first time since he attended Hogwarts he was not bored to death when it came to history.

"Had there been aurors too, back then?" He asked. "And do other nations have aurors too?"

"Yes." The Potions Master answered. "Back then, there had been aurors too, and yes, they have come from all over the world. They had been the wizards which had been trying to keep the second world war under control – unfortunately in vain."

"But why from all over the world?" Ronald Weasley asked. "It was named the second world war, but not all nations were affected."

"That might be, but they knew that they _could_ be affected in one way or another and that the more power Hitler got, the more damage he could cause."

"But why did the wizards even partake in this war?" Theodore asked. "I mean, if the muggles kill each other, well, it didn't affect the wizarding race, no offence."

"Because they knew that it was necessary." Snape answered calmly. "The first world war had been horrible and it was named the first world war because it simply had been the _first_ world war. The second world war was more than just horrible and nearly destroyed nations, thousands of people didn't die in the battles even but were simply killed, included women and children. But the third world war will be the last one, because it will destroy everything. And the wizards do know this."

"But why weren't they successful then?" Hermione asked. "They were wizards!"

"And what do you think, Hermione, would have happened if they had been found out?"

"Ok, that was a stupid question, I guess." The girl said.

"No, it was not, child." Severus said. "Concerning such a serious subject as this, no question is really stupid. The more you ask, the more you learn of your past, what had happened and why it had happened, and the more you will be able to prevent the same mistakes in future."

"But we are no Germans." Ronald Weasley said. "It can't happen to us."

"It can, Ronald." He said. "The first wizarding war is proof of that. Each nation has its own Hitler at one point or another. Each nation makes its own big mistakes. The Americans had the civil war, as had – or have – a lot of other nations. And there won't be always a group of aurors at hand to smooth things over."

"Well, I'm sure that as long as Potter's there, there always will be at least one auror." Draco smirked, teasing the black-haired boy.

"Actually … I'm not sure if I really want to become an auror." The boy mumbled, blushing.

"Actually … there is no Mr. Potter present in this room, but if you happen to speak of my son, Mr. Malfoy, then it should be Mr. Snape." Severus drawled, lifting his eyebrow at Draco who chuckled lightly. "And yes, I can see why you wouldn't become an auror anymore, Mr. Snape, seeing that you have become my son, I am sure that you would prefer becoming a Potions Master." He then smirked, turning to Harry who lowered his head onto his arms he had laying atop the table, groaning.

"Definitely not." The boy then growled into his arms. "Whoever would order my potions would be at risk of being poisoned."

"I definitely agree, Harry." Severus said, smiling, startling some of the Gryffindors in the act. "What is it you would like to do after school then?" He seriously asked then.

"Dunno." The boy said, leaning back in his chair. "I would like becoming a healer maybe, or working with children. I mean, well … not normal children … uhm … never mind."

"Hmmm …" The Potions Master made. "I see. And it is a good choice you have in your mind."

The child definitely was embarrassed and he definitely was tired too, he noticed. He would send him to bed soon today if the boy didn't lay down by himself.

Severus on the other hand was pleased. He had thought he would have to talk Harry out of being an auror. He had heard Harry, Ronald and Hermione talking about their goals in the halls on more than one occasion and had seriously worried about how Harry would be an instrument of a corrupt Ministry only.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"I am glad that you recede from becoming an auror, Harry." Severus later said.

He had taken the boy to the shower, after all the others had been there. He could tell that the teen had not liked it, and he could understand it, but he had refused from backing out of his orders yesterday. He would not allow the boy taking a shower alone and dropping again.

He had kept his shorts on and he had allowed the teen to keep on his briefs, and nevertheless the boy's face had been a deep shade of red. Well, he would get used to it, if he didn't die before, that was.

Gritting his teeth at that thought – and not for the first time – he forced his thoughts away from that direction. Right now Harry was here, and he was alive, laying in his arms after he had massaged the boy's limbs to keep the cramps at a minimum. He had shown all of how they could massage the limbs of their friends and partners and now they did so at least every afternoon before they took a nap and every evening before bed.

"I have enough dark wizards hunting me." The boy said. "I do not need more when I'm grown. And I don't even know if I … I just want to have a peaceful life."

"A worthwhile ambition." The Potions Master admitted. "And working with abused children isn't such a bad job either. That it was what you wanted to say, wasn't it?"

"Hmmm …" The boy only made.

"It is what you would have been in need of a very long time ago as well, someone who took care of you." Severus said, running his thumb over the boy's forehead while Harry lay in his arms, his back resting against his chest and he tried to look around the small form to look into the pale face. "But you never had it. You had to deal with all of your abuse alone."

"I wasn't …" The boy said and he could feel him shuddering. "Well, that what you mean …"

"What? Abused?" The Potions Master growled darkly. "You were and you do know it. It was abuse and you know it. You just do not dare speaking it out aloud yet. But it was abuse."

"No, it wasn't!" The boy denied vehemently. "It would have bothered me if it had been. But it never did. It just happened. I mean, I have been in this cupboard for years and it never bothered me. It just started now! But it would have bothered me if it had been … well, that what you said."

"You can't even say the name, Harry." Snape gently said, pulling the boy closer up to his chest. "I do doubt that it really did not bother you, child. It just was that you could not _allow_ it to bother you. While your – relatives …" Well, he really couldn't bring himself to say 'your aunt and uncle' when addressing those monsters. "While they kept you in that cupboard, you simply had to endure it, never mind what. You had no time to be scared, you could not allow yourself to be scared, because then you would have gone mad a long time ago. And I do guess that protest would only have warranted further punishment. Am I right?"

The boy didn't look up, neither did he make any movement nor did he give an answer away, he just continued to pick at his blanket and Severus took that as an affirmative.

"So there was nothing you could have done about it and your mind pushed it away." He continued. "It however started bothering you now, because you now have the time to think about it, because you now have the freedom to think about it and because you slowly but surely do realize that it was just that – abuse, even if you are not ready to acknowledge or to speak out the word yet."

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_religious believes and discussion  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	20. religious believes and discussions

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

******Previously in twenty-one days**

_"While they kept you in that cupboard, you simply had to endure it, never mind what. You had no time to be scared, you could not allow yourself to be scared, because then you would have gone mad a long time ago. And I do guess that protest would only have warranted further punishment. Am I right?"_

_The boy didn't look up, neither did he make any movement nor did he give an answer away, he just continued to pick at his blanket and Severus took that as an affirmative._

_"So there was nothing you could have done about it and your mind pushed it away." He continued. "It however started bothering you now, because you now have the time to think about it, because you now have the freedom to think about it and because you slowly but surely do realize that it was just that – abuse, even if you are not ready to acknowledge or to speak out the word yet."_

**Chapter ****twenty**

**Day ****fourteen – Sunday****, fifteenth of September**

**Religious believes and discussions**

After fourteen days, after two weeks, he honestly didn't think that anyone would come anymore. Something had gone wrong, badly wrong, and whatever had happened to lock them in, whatever had happened to keep the castle's wards up … he simply doubted that anyone would come anymore. Not after two weeks. They would die down here, all of them, and he dreaded the day the first of them died, knowing who it would be.

He still didn't know how the boy had managed to work his way into his heart so completely. He had worked with other abused children before without allowing them to come as close as Harry had become after all. Close yes, because they all needed him, bot not _that_ close, however, somehow Harry had managed and he dreaded the moment the boy would die, knowing that he couldn't do anything against it.

Harry _would_ die, and he would die soon, he would be the first one of them, and he knew that the only question was – how the boy would die. But even here – he knew that he couldn't do much, he knew that it would be a slow and painful death, a cruel death and he only would be able to _try_ and make it as bearable as possible with his limited possibilities. But in the end – Harry would feel the pain, never mind what he did to make it as bearable as possible, and in the end Harry would feel the fear, never mind what he did to make it any more bearable to the child. It was a frustrating thought, one that scared the hell out of himself, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to do anything else aside from simply trying.

A soft sob got him out of his thoughts and he looked over the students, noticing that all of them still slept – except of one, Finnigan, and he got up from the mattress he was laying at, carefully so he wouldn't wake Harry.

In the beginning he had refused to lay down at the mattresses, had even refused to lay down at the sofa in the rest room. He had been sleeping in the chair in front of his desk, dozing only, afraid to lose his dignity, afraid to lose control over the situation, afraid that anything might happen if he slept too deeply. But soon he had realized that not only wouldn't he be able to continue like this for long if he didn't want to suffer a breakdown caused by insomnia himself, but that it wasn't about dignity and trust, but about giving and receiving comfort. So he had planned to sleep in his rest room on the sofa, but it had come to sleeping at the mattresses with the children soon, and now? He didn't mind now.

Frowning he realized that the sobbing had grown louder and more frequent, had changed to crying, while he had tried to be as careful as possible so he wouldn't wake Harry and so he hurried over to the other Gryffindor, kneeling down beside his mattress. As he lay at the outside of the mattresses that had been shoved together days ago, it was easy doing so without waking the other children and gently he stretched out his hand, placed it at the boy's shoulder to gain his attention.

The boy however shrugged him off and curled into a small ball, burying his head into his arms and his sobs grew louder once more.

"Calm down, Seamus." He quietly said, trying to sound calm and reassuring himself while he tried to unfold the boy, pulling his arms down from where he had them covering his head – in vain, as the boy had gripped his hair in his fists. "What happened? Come now, open your eyes and look at me."

He was sure that the boy had not been sleeping before his panic. He was too awake, even if not really responsible, and there were no tracks of sleep, no marks from the pillow in the pale face, and so he guessed that it hadn't been a nightmare but that most likely Seamus had been laying there, awake for some time, and thinking.

And while he normally preferred students that were able to use their brains and to think, he knew that in this particular situation thinking too much – or to long – might not be the best course of actions, ending in depressions, a panic attack, or similar. Like with Finnigan right now.

"Calm down, Seamus and tell me what happened." He repeated, again trying to disentangle the boy's arms from his head. "You will feel better afterwards, I promise. We will sort this out. Come now, calm down, Seamus."

But still the boy did not respond aside from jerking away and hitting his head against the wall in the progress, starting to give away a small and suppressed scream.

"Stop it, child." Severus finally ordered, wrapping his arms around the boy's thin body to keep him from hurting himself any further, pulling him close against his chest at the same time. "Stop it, calm down, Seamus." He whispered calmer then, and out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Draco getting up tiredly, walking into his potions laboratory and he immediately knew that the boy would get a relaxing draught, wished he had still some calming draughts left.

He cast a quick glance over the other children, noticing that Theodore as well as Harry had woken by now, were sitting at their mattresses, startled, their eyes wide with fear. Neville and Weasley who had been laying closest to Seamus were awake too, but they were calm and just watched the scene unsurely.

"Easy, child." He continued whispering while holding the boy, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything else right now. "You will be quite fine, calm down. I will _not_ leave you alone, I will not leave _any_ of you alone." He added for the sake of all the other children that were awake right now and listened, knowing that they all needed this reassurance and those words of comfort, knowing that Seamus wasn't the first with a breakdown and knowing that he wouldn't be the last one either.

"I know that our situation is difficult and I do understand your fears, but try to calm down." He whispered, running his hand through the boy's brown hair while trying to keep his hold on him whenever he tried to break free. "I will not leave you alone. I will be quite here. Breathe calmly, Seamus, take one breath at a time, slowly … slower … come now, Seamus, you can do this!"

Well, to say that he was relieved the moment Draco came back with two vials of calming draught would be an understatement and he shifted the boy in his arms so that he had one hand free and then uncorked the vial with the thumb of one hand before placing the small glass container at the boy's lips and tilted its bottom up, pouring its contents into the boy's mouth.

He waited until the boy in his arms started to relax bit by bit, had released his tight grip at his own hair so he could pull the teen's arms down, the boy in the end simply sobbing in his arms before he himself forced his body to relax.

"What happened, Seamus?" He then asked again, knowing that leaving the teen to his own wouldn't be a wise decision right now. The boy needed to speak about his fears, and the others needed to hear it too, needed to hear his answer then. Down here, here was no hiding, here was no keeping such things secret and here was no sparing someone. They needed to know their fears and they needed to know his answer to them so they all could understand and learn, because his words of reassurance towards Seamus would reassure the others as well.

"We'll die!" The boy in his arms finally choked out. "We'll all die!"

"I do not know this, Seamus." He calmly said. "Maybe we will, yes, maybe we will not. None of us can say so."

"But it's two weeks!" The boy sobbed, mirroring his own thoughts he'd had only moments ago.

"Yes, it has been two weeks." Severus answered honestly. "But we are still alive. Even Harry, Theodore, Draco, Tracy and Parvati are still alive, Seamus. None of us can say what the future will hold for us, but we are still alive yet and I will do all that is in my power to keep it that way for as long as possible."

"What'll happen when we'll die?" The boy asked, his voice frightened.

"If we will die, then there will be a few very sad people we are leaving behind." He said, not sure what exactly the boy meant. It had been a question that could mean anything, but he was not willing to ask the child to specify his question, not before he had given him a chance doing so on his own. "They won't forget us, I promise you that."

"I mean, what …" The boy asked, his voice trembling. "What'll be after?"

Looking over the other children that were awake now, the Potions Master sighed heavily before he leaned back against the wall, pulling Seamus with him. Draco had placed the second bottle of relaxing draught at his desk, probably he had known that it would be needed at one point or another, and then he had seated himself back at the mattress. Harry and Theodore were still sitting there, looking scared and startled and so much in need of him as was Seamus right now, but somehow he knew that he couldn't risk releasing the teen right now. Not yet.

"Move closer, all of you." He said. "Theodore and Harry, take a blanket and cover you both with it. Hermione and – Ronald, do the same." With another deep sigh he noticed that they did as they were told, that Harry leaned against Theodore while Draco leaned closer to Harry's other side and he nodded his approval towards his godson who threw a blanket over the three of them. Most of the others had followed that example and only a few remained sleeping.

"I cannot answer you this question." He then said. "No one does know what lies behind death, and I personally think that it is a good thing that we do not know. We are able to await death because we do not know what lays behind. If we knew, then maybe we would be startled at the thought, or we would be scared, or we would be so excited that we would kill our selves before our time to make the experience sooner than necessary."

"But what _could_ be after death?" Parvati asked and he looked at her seriously.

"Anything." He finally answered. "Or maybe nothing. Some people believe that we were reborn in another body. Others believe that nothing will happen at all and that we simply are no more after we have died. And others again believe that we will become something more important, something superior."

"That would make sense." Harry said and he looked over at the boy questioningly.

"Why do you think so, Harry?" He then asked. Maybe it was important that they had this discussion right now. Maybe he should have done so before, to … well, to somehow prepare them, maybe.

"Well, you see, the moment we are born, life as we have known it, being in our mother's stomach, it ends and we become something more important, we are born and we become babies, everything changes with our birth and something new starts even though we've been alive before that." The boy said and for a moment he had to smile, not only at the teen's wording, but at the boy's logic as well.

"Womb." Hermione said, not able to keep herself from correcting the boy. "It's womb, Harry, not stomach."

"Maybe." Harry said. "I don't think it's important right now. But we become something else. We have lived, yes, for nine months we have lived, but when we were born, we became more somehow. And then we grow and learn, but nevertheless we're using just 15 percent of our brains or something like that. Maybe we cannot use more of it and it's there nevertheless because we need it for what comes after death. I mean, it would be logically, wouldn't it?"

The boy looked at him nearly pleadingly and he couldn't help but giving a reassuring nod.

"It does sound _very_ logically." He said. "I do not know if it is true, no one does, no one ever will know this. We only will know an answer to this the moment we die. But your theory does make sense and it could be, yes. That makes five points for you."

Well the smile the boy gave him definitely was worth the discussion, even if he still could read the fear in the child's eyes.

"Mom once told me a story about a hall of souls and that little sparrows were living in there." Tracy quietly said. "And she said, whenever a baby was born, then it got its soul from this hall. But she also said that one day this hall would be empty, because people destroyed everything and she said, that then the first child without a soul would be born."

"This myth has its origin in the Jewish mysticism, yes, Tracy." He said, sighing. "The Chamber of Guf is the hall of souls, located in the seventh heaven and it is said that every human soul is held to emanate from the Guf. It also is said that the Messiah will not come until the Guf is emptied of all its souls. But they say that first the Lord would send the seven signs, the seven plagues, as a warning. The mystic significance of the Guf is, that each person is important and has its unique role which only they, with their unique soul can fulfil and that even a newborn baby brings the Messiah closer by simply being born. But here too, I cannot tell you if it is correct or not. I am not a theologian. I do however not really believe so, because we all have a soul and I can not imagine that we would be able to even live without a soul. But I cannot tell for sure. That will however be five points to you too, Tracy."

"What do witches and wizards believe in anyway?" Hermione then asked. "I mean, I never have heard a witch or wizard calling out _'oh my God!'_ or _'oh, dear Lord!'_. They say _'Merlin!'_ or something else relented to Merlin. Why? What do magical folks believe in?"

"In the same as do muggles, Hermione." Severus answered. "Some believe in God, some believe in Allah, some believe in Jesus, some believe in Manitou, some believe in Buddha. Others believe in nothing, or in money, or in nature, in power – and yes, some do believe in Merlin, as few as there are. But do not mistake Merlin for a God. He only had been a very, _very_ great wizard and a lot of witches and wizards do respect his memory. But yes, some do even believe in him and that will be five points to you too, Hermione, for asking a very good question."

"What do you believe in, sir?" Harry's small voice was heard, softly enough so he could have chosen to ignore it, but the question had sounded so desperately, somehow he couldn't and he regarded the child with a long and thoughtful gaze.

"Come here, Harry." He then said, feeling that this was very important for the boy and he wanted to have him close by. The teen hesitated for a moment, looking at him unsurely as if he didn't know if he were in trouble for asking this question or not, but he waved him over and finally the boy scrambled forth from underneath the blanket and over to him. He still had one arm around Seamus' shoulder and with his other he now pulled Harry closer.

"This is a very difficult question and the answer to that is not easy." He started. "I definitely _do_ believe in our Lord. And I do not mean the Dark Lord, but God. And I do believe in him, because I think that the way life functions, human beings, the way we are able to move our limbs, our body functions, our brains and our hearts, the way we feel, the way animals are living, plants, our planet – this all would not be possible in its entire fineness, if there were not a much more powerful force at work than what we can grasp with our limited understanding. But it is, life in its entire fineness _does_ exist, and so – yes, I do believe in our Lord. I however do not believe in any kind of churches, because in the very beginning there had been no churches either. People had been praying without a church and people had been talking to our Lord without having a building they went into. I am sure that if there is someone like our Lord existent, then he surely will not mind if we are praying in a church or if we are praying in the bathroom. I believe that he will be very satisfied if we talk to him wherever we are, as long as we do talk to him at all."

The boy was quiet for a while, looking thoughtfully, as did the other children and he wondered what was going through that child's mind.

"What do you believe in, Harry?" He then asked.

"I don't know." The boy then said, nearly whispered, averting his eyes. "I've never … I mean, no one ever talked to me about that. My aunt always said that I'll rot in hell anyway."

"That is not true, child!" Severus seethed angrily and the boy looked up at him, startled, as did some others. "That is not true." He repeated a bit calmer then. "You are a child, and our Lord surely will not have any child going to hell. What have you done, Harry, to deserve being punished like this? No, Harry!" He protested when the boy started to open his mouth and to say something, most probably some ridiculous notions his blasted relatives had beaten into him for years until he had believed them.

"You have done nothing that would warrant a stay in hell, child." He said, piercing the boy with his dark eyes before doing the same with the others. "Nor has any other of you. 'And he arose from thence and cometh into the coasts of Judaea by the farther side of Jordan, and the people resort unto him again. And, as he was wont, he taught them again. And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them, and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.'"

"You are versed in the bible?" Hermione asked startled.

"Of course I am." He growled darkly. "My mother had taught me some things after all, you foolish child!"

At that Harry beside him started giggling and with a raised eyebrow he looked down at the child that leaned against him, knowing well what had caused that giggle, namely the words _'foolish child'_. A moment later however he noticed that the giggles started to change into sobs and another moment later Severus felt Harry pulling him down to wrap his thin arms around his neck, silently crying as the realization of true freedom of support and caring and relief sank in and with a sad sigh he pulled the boy closer, wrapped his own arms around the horribly thin body of the child.

Harry had long since given up the hope of having parents with which he could talk about anything, ridiculous things as well as such serious things like right now, just as he had accepted being alone long since as well … until recently, when he had dared to hope again, first with Sirius and now with Snape. Snape, talking to them without hesitation, sharing such private things as religious beliefs and what could come after death, talking to them like a parent did, and he simply couldn't help starting to cry.

Damn those blasted tears that couldn't remain in their normal place where they belonged to!

He simply had not thought that Snape really would answer his question, as to what he believed in. But Snape had. And he had asked him back. But what did he believe in? What _could_ he believe in? No one ever had talked to him about such things! No one ever had told him anything else than that he would rot in hell after death, until he had believed it. And now Snape had reassured him with a few words that such would not be the case, that he would not rot in hell, that he would not have to … how was he supposed to keep his tears at bay now? How was he supposed to … how …

Wrapping his arm about the child tightly and pulling him even closer against his chest he sighed.

How could those monsters have told a child something like that until he believed it? How could those monsters have told a child he would rot in hell anyway? Startling and frightening the child out of his wits? How could they misuse a bible text like this just to hurt a child that had been placed in their care?

He was not an overly believing man, he was a bastard even with no affection for children in the first place, but not even _he_ would have done such a thing ever! How could they …

And now the situation finally took its toll on the boy too, he realized, the boy knowing that he would die, and he was sure that the boy knew that very well, that he knew he would die soon even, and the boy realizing that he would _not_ rot in hell after he had died. What kind of emotional pain had the child been in? Knowing that he would die soon and believing that he would rot in hell? How horribly scared must this child had been at that thought?

It really was no wonder that this situation, this new realization took its toll on his son, considering his upbringing, considering the worse condition he had been in, in the first place, and he wondered how the child had managed to _not_ being one of the first who broke down – and how he had survived so far without going insane years ago already.

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Harry had been crying for a long time, but Severus had known that this time it had not been tears of grief and pain or fear he had shared, but that this time they had been tears of relief and so he had not tried to calm the boy down, but had let him cry, only running his hand soothingly over the child's back, trying to comfort only.

How much other fears slept within this child? How much other pains had been ingrained into this child? Fears and pains that could be taken away with a few words, and fears and pains that would linger there forever, never mind what he would do or say?

Carding his fingers through the boy's hair he looked down at the child that now lay in his lap, sleeping. Harry's breath still hitched in his sleep every now and then, a remnant of his hysterical crying earlier, and nevertheless he didn't regret having allowed the boy those bitter tears. This particular child surely had rarely had a reason to cry tears of relief within his short life.

"Sir?" An unsure voice asked and he looked over to look into Weasley's pale face.

"Yes, Ronald?" He asked, his dark eyes watching the boy calmly.

"I wondered …" The red-haired Gryffindor asked. "Well, you have started to call all of us by our given names, even me. And I wondered why. I mean, I know that … well, you see, you are much nicer than you used to be, and I guess I know why, but … I just don't understand! I mean, you hated Harry!"

Sighing Severus looked down at the child he still held in his arms, before he looked back at Weasley, knowing that some of the other children watched them with bated breathes as well.

"First, hate is a strong word, Ronald, and one that should not be used lightly." He finally answered. "I did not _hate_ Harry, nor do I hate children generally. I have no affection for children in the first place, yes, and only the older they become the more bearable they become. And I while I _do_ care for all of the students, I have to admit that I do not like the students from other houses than mine overly what however is based on the fact that the students in my house are often handled unfairly by not only the student body but other teachers as well. Therefore of course I do protect the students in my house by preferring them. I also do admit that I even held a great dislike towards Harry. But the reason of why this had changed, is between Harry and me alone. If Harry is ready to share this with you, then he might, but I will not do so."

He waited for a moment until he had a timid nod from the Weasley boy.

"Second, I have started calling all of you by your given name, because of the same reason I have changed my classroom persona into a less acerbic and intimidating one, namely to provide you with the comfort and freedom all of you not only need but deserve right now." He then continued. "All of you have behaved very well during the past two weeks despite the fears, hunger, pain and weakness all of you feel, and despite the knowledge that maybe death might await us. And that is more than I could have expected of some adult wizards. You all have shown much bravery and you all have shown strength in a dire situation and therefore you all have deserved the right of being called by your given names. I _do_ respect that and I _am_ proud of you."

He ignored the open mouth the boy regarded him with and he ignored the startled gazes some of the other Gryffindors regarded him with as well.

"And third, I do call _you_ by your given name as well, because you are not only part of this group, but because you as well are my son's best friend, even if you sometimes have a strange way of showing him your loyalty." He finally said.

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"Drink!" He ordered when Harry finally woke. He had started stirring in his arms a few minutes ago, but he had not woken fully, had buried his face in his, Severus', arms as if trying to snuggle closer and he frowned at the thought. How dare this blasted brat snuggling – _snuggling_! – against him!

Yet, he couldn't keep his lips from twitching upwards traitorously. He really would have trouble if they made it out of this alive somehow, trouble regaining his meanwhile destroyed reputation. And yet, he didn't really mind. Those seventeen children had become important to him during the past two weeks, more important than that he ever had thought possible. Those children were his – _his_! – fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors!

His gaze nearly proudly swept over them.

They really had not only behaved well, but brave and strong and they had acted with as much dignity as possible in a situation that would have upset any adult wizard. So – yes, he had reason to be proud of his children.

Shaking his head over his own thoughts he looked down at the small form in his arms and noticed that the boy finally was awake and that the green eyes regarded him with a still tired but perceptive look at the same time. They all were tired meanwhile, exhausted, hunger and fear gnawing at them.

"Drink!" He ordered when the boy finally was fully awake, reaching him a cup of water Vincent had placed at the mantelpiece earlier. "You have been drinking too less today. It is important that you drink as much as possible."

"I know." The boy sighed, sitting up and taking the cup. He could hear what the boy did not say. Namely _'But I don't feel so well.'_

Taking the cup the boy got up and went over to the table, sitting down into one of the chairs and he followed.

"Drink, Harry!" He repeated when the teen placed the cup simply at the tabletop without taking a sip.

With a sigh of defeat the boy took the cup and did as he had asked of him before placing it back at the table and running his hand over his neck and with a frown he got off his chair and stepped behind the teen.

"Let me help you with this." He said and placed his hands on Harry's neck, feeling the boy tensing up immediately. "Relax. You know I am not going to hurt you." He said, beginning to massage Harry's neck and shoulders. "If it feels uncomfortable, just tell me."

Of course he knew the reason as to why Harry tensed upon at each and every unexpected touch and he knew that two weeks of reassuring him that he would never hurt him were nothing compared to thirteen years of cruel abuse, of being beaten and starved and locked away in a small cupboard. And nevertheless it hurt that the boy still flinched when he touched him. The child was his son now, he was the child's father now, as strange as this thought still was to him, and a son should not flinch away from his father's touch.

"Sir?" The boy asked when he moved to sit back beside him and started to massage the boy's arms.

"Yes, Harry?" He asked, lifting his eyes from the frightening thin arms to look at the boy for a moment before looking back down at them.

"Do you … I mean, do you like us?" The boy asked and for a moment he again looked up into the green eyes that watched him unsurely. "I have dreamed … I have dreamed that you said you were proud of us."

So, the boy had not slept as deeply as he had thought and his words had entered his dreams. Well, at least it had not been nightmares this time.

"Actually, you not only have dreamt this, Mr. Snape." He said sarcastically. "I indeed have said those words."

"So, you _do_ like us?" The boy asked, his voice hopeful.

"No, I do _not_ like you." The Potions Master answered with his eyebrow lifted. As Harry however stared at him with a hurt expression on his face, he gave in and a small smiled tucked at his lips. "I _love_ _you_. I do _like _the others … at times … perhaps. But I do love _you,_ Mr, Snape, and now drink!"

The smile that broke free on the boy's face before he took the cup and took another sip of the water, the smile that lit up the boy's face, was worth being driven mad by thousands of the brats.

A moment later however he frowned when the boy bent over, the pale face going nearly white and bony fists gripping the shirt over his stomach.

"Harry?" He asked, startled.

"Sick." Was the only word the boy was able to force out between teeth that were pressed together tightly and he quickly grabbed the boy on his upper arm, ignoring the flinch and the startled, nearly scared look on the chalky and bony face. He pulled the boy along towards the bathroom, hoping that the movement would help ease the nervous stomach a bit for a moment. They all had the same problems, being ill, having stomach cramps, cramps in their limbs, headaches … the list went on and on.

Well – one could hope. But hope alone got you now where and Severus just had managed to open the bathroom door for the boy when Harry bent over in his grasp again and nearly dropped to the floor, throwing up onto the stony tiles and gasping for breath between dry heaves after he had gotten rid of the water he had drunk just moments ago, and Severus gently lowered the boy to the floor before he would be hurt further.

He knelt beside him, placing his hand onto the child's forehead, supporting his head while at the same time rubbing calming circles over the boy's back, waiting patiently and murmuring calming words until the dry heaves finally stopped and the boy relaxed a bit, leaning back. A moment later however he felt Harry tensing up again and he feared that the boy would heave dryly again, while his empty stomach didn't have any more water to dispel, but a glance down into the child's pale face showed him that the boy wouldn't be ill again.

The pale face showed pure horror and a moment later the teen started murmuring apologies in a way that was too frantic for his liking.

"Hush, child." He said, frowning worriedly and ignoring the mantra of "I'm sorry". "There is no reason to apologize, child." But when he tried to pull the boy closer, to physically comfort him, the child flinched away from him, violently, the fear in the green eyes bordering at panic and again he cursed the boy's relatives, not for the first time since he knew what they had done to the child.

"I'm sorry." Harry repeated, his voice trembling as much as did his fingers, his hands, his entire form. "I didn't mean to … really … I'll clean it up … I'm sorry … really …"

"Hush, child." He said, ignoring the flinch when he took the boy's pale and damp face between his hands and forced it up so he had to look at him, not allowing the child to break away again. "Look at me! You are not back with your relatives! You are here at Hogwarts, Harry, it's me, Severus, calm down, child, you are safe. There is nothing to be sorry for … _no, Harry_! Look at me!" He commanded, keeping a strong grip on the child's face when he again tried to break away. "_Look – at – me_! You are safe here! Nothing happened and I will not harm you! Do you understand? Look at me! Do you recognize me?"

"I'm sorry." Came the answer in a small voice, the glazed eyes just slowly coming back to reality. "Yes. I'm sorry, sir. I …"

"There is no reason to be." Severus said, releasing his breath which he didn't even know he had been holding. "Everything is just fine. Do not apologize. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes." The boy whispered, trying to avoid his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I said do not apologize." He quietly repeated. "Let's get you back to bed. Come now, up with you." He said and gently pulled the boy into a standing position on his upper arm before leading him back to the classroom. He laid him down onto his mattress and went over to the sink to get a wet cloth, wiped it over the child's still damp face.

Again the boy's eyes displayed fear the moment he approached him with the wet cloth but he forced himself to ignore it, and again the boy flinched the moment he run the wet cloth over his pale face but he forced himself to ignore this too.

"Close your eyes and try to sleep a bit." He quietly said. "Or to at least rest a bit if you cannot sleep. I will be back in a moment."

He stood up, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he did so, and went back towards the bathroom, taking the mop and starting to clean away the mess while his worried thoughts ran havoc in his mind, knowing that this was just the beginning.

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When he came back he immediately realized that Harry had tensed up to a point until his muscles must hurt again and the scared look had not left his green eyes.

"You do know that I surely would not punish you for being sick, you foolish child, do you not?" He asked while sitting onto the mattress and leaning back against the wall beside the fireplace, pulling the boy into his arms until he rested with his side against his chest.

"Yes, I'm sorry, sir." The boy murmured, not daring to look at him and he sighed.

"Look at me, child." He said. "I know that I am a harsh person, that I am demanding and that I am anything else than kind. But not even I would punish a child upon being sick. That simply is not done and the fact that your relatives had done so only shows what freaks they are. And yes, _they had_ been freaks! Not you, but _them_! And now close your eyes and go to sleep for a while."

For a while there was silence in the classroom until Gregory's voice was heard.

"Where is sleep?" The boy asked and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow at the teen. Had his young Slytherin lost his mind now completely? Gregory never had been overly intelligent, but had he lost his mind now completely due to hunger, tiredness and exhaustion? Due to fear and …

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, curiously gazing over at the Slytherin boy.

"Well, everyone tells you to go to sleep … but, where exactly is sleep?" Gregory asked, trying to keep a straight face and the Potions Master had to admit that for once, Gregory _had_ used his brain well.

"You are an idiot!" Draco murmured sleepily, shaking his head. "Shut up, Greg, and go to sleep!"

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_takk skal du ha  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	21. takk skal du ha

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_For a while there was silence in the classroom until Gregory's voice was heard._

_"Where is sleep?" The boy asked and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow at the boy. Had the teen lost his mind now entirely?_

_"What do you mean?" Neville asked, curiously gazing over at the Slytherin boy._

_"Well, everyone tells you to go to sleep … but, where exactly is sleep?" Gregory asked, trying to keep a straight face._

_"You are an idiot!" Draco murmured, shaking his head. "Shut up, Greg, and go to sleep!" _

**Chapter twenty-one**

**Day fifteen – Monday, sixteenth of September**

**Takk skal du ha**

Slowly the great hall filled, students coming in one by one and without the usual chatter and noise one might think about three hundred students would cause. Not that there had been much chatter and noise in the great hall during the past few days in the first place, the students definitely had been more silent since some of them were imprisoned down in the dungeons, the atmosphere having been rather depressed all the time, and understandably so. All of them had friends, brothers or sisters down there after all. But right now the great hall filled so silently one might be able to hear a needle dropping on the floor.

And the great hall itself had changed too today. The house tables that had stood there this morning for breakfast were gone now and rows after rows of benches had appeared that stood in front of the head table, that were filling with students one by one. There were drapes hanging in two rows from the ceiling, but they – for once – did not show the house colours. They were black and had only the Hogwarts crest on them.

The students themselves had changed too. None of them wore any private clothing and not even their house robes. They all wore black trousers and black shoes, white shirts and plain black dress robes. They also didn't wear their house ties but the black Hogwarts ties with the Hogwarts emblem on them. The girls had their hair braided and the boys had even washed their faces and their hands.

It was Monday, September the sixteenth, and their classmates were missed since fifteen days now, since two weeks – and dead.

One by one the bench that stood to one side of the great hall filled as well, even if not as quietly as the ones that were now filled with the students, the ministry officials babbling and chatting in whispered voices until Madam Bones gave them angry looks, whispering to them that they were less well-behaved than were the children that had managed to enter silently.

Cornelius Fudge cast an angry look towards her at her words, but the rest of them luckily blushed and went silent immediately.

The second bench that was situated at the other side of the great hall, beneath the row of windows filled as well, quietly sobbing witches being led by grave looking wizards, the parents of the students that were down there, captured in the closed off dungeons of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, and dead.

Only one man in his late mid ages was sitting there now that was not a parent, shoulder long, black hair tied back into a braid, dark brown eyes blinking every now and then as if blinking away tears and while his breath was calm, it was clear that he forced it being that way. He was wearing black clothes, black trousers, a black shirt and a heavy black dress robe that held no family crest.

Suddenly there was movement at the high table the teachers were sitting at and Albus Dumbledore stood.

For once, the headmaster did not wear colourful robes but black ones as well, and his pale face was grave, tired and wrinkled, old. He overlooked the students for a moment, his gaze wandering over the bench that held the parents sadly, before his shoulders sagged and he seemed to become even _more_ old, even _more_ tired and even _more_ miserable than he had been just a moment ago, while his blue eyes did not twinkle as they normally so often would. In fact – they had not twinkled as much lately as one was used to when being in close contact with the old wizard.

"We are here today, all of us, to give our last respect to seventeen students and a teacher that are missed since two weeks now, that are locked up down in the dungeons that have sealed themselves two weeks ago after an attack from Death Eaters that has confused the castle to a point where it had shut down herself." Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster started, his voice as tired and as drawn as was his face and the old wizard had to place his hands atop the speaker's desk to hide their trembling. "All the shut down areas of the castle, we have been able to reopen during the same night, except for the dungeons and we only can speculate about what might have happened. The guarding picture of Marlow Venenatus, the old Potions Master that guarded the door to Professor Snape's private chambers, told us that during class this morning, on September the 2nd, a cauldron has exploded – at the same time at which the castle has shut down herself, and so we can only guess that this accident might have interfered with the attack of the Death Eaters."

"It is another murder that is to be written on Tom Riddle's account." He said, ignoring the gasps from some of the ministry officials while trying to ignore the smirk he could see on Lucius Malfoy's face. "This attack has not been a simple attack from some random criminals, but it has been an attack from followers of Lord Voldemort. Nothing else is to be said there, because I refuse to give them the satisfaction of going deeper into their vile actions with my speech. It is the seventeen students and the teacher we are here for, not them, and so I will start with our remembrance vigil."

He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes for a moment before releasing it slowly. None of the students that had attended and then left Hogwarts throughout the many years had touched his ancient heart as much as one fourteen year old skinny, green-eyed, black-haired and stubborn child named Harry Potter, and none of them had touched his ancient heart as much as had one thirty-four year old, skinny, black-eyed, black-haired, stubborn and sarcastic young man named Severus Snape.

But of course he couldn't say so right now, never mind how much he wished he could. As the headmaster, he had to keep from picking favourites right now.

"Over the many long years of my tenure as transfiguration professor and then headmaster, there were many students that I thought of with great fondness, and that had me worried about them, about their education as well as about their health, but never before have I worried about any student as much as I have worried during the past two weeks over the missed seventeen students and one of my teachers, and never before have I had to fear actually losing one of my students, lest alone seventeen of them."

Of course that was not entirely true. He had feared losing Harry more than once, during his first year when the boy had gone after the Philosophers Stone, during his second year when the boy had gone down into the chamber of secrets, and again during his third year, when the child had been found at the lake, fighting hundreds of dementors. And he had feared losing Severus each time he had sent him to the madman that was Voldemort, for spying on him despite that he had atoned for his mistakes he had made in his youth long time ago.

How could his two boys always have been so stubborn?

But then his face became grim and he looked over the students, his mind made up.

"All those students down there have been my children in one way or another, some of them in Gryffindor, some of them in Slytherin, but all of them have been my children here at Hogwarts and I loved them as much as I love all of you." He then said. "The Gryffindors with their bravery and stubbornness, with their unbending loyalty, and the Slytherins with their cunning intelligence, their stubborn need to prove their value and their ability to survive the direst of situations. Lavender Brown, Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil have been the only fourth year girls on the Gryffindor side, but while Lavender and Parvati have been close friends, Hermione had chosen different company, with Harry and Ronald, the golden trio as some called them. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan have been the boys on the Gryffindor side and they all, really all of them, have been not only very brave and very kind children, but they have been loved and they are missed."

His eyes wandered over the students again.

"Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass have been the fourth year Slytherin girls, and they soon have become pairs - Millicent befriending Pansy and Tracy befriending Daphne, even if they have been able to work together just as well. The boys on the Slytherin fourth year side have been Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Vincent, Gregory and Draco have formed a very strong bond during their first year, Draco benefiting from Vincent's and Gregory's strength and Vincent and Gregory benefiting from Draco's ability for sly cunning, while Theodore and Blaise have been rather for themselves. They have not been outsiders, but neither have they formed a special friendship like the others, they have been able to get along with everyone, even with some of the other houses."

He took another deep breath before releasing it slowly.

"I am sure that during the many speeches made today, all the seventeen students will be remembered." He then calmly said. "But there will be no parent or other relative that will regard Harry Potter, and therefore I, as his headmaster, will overtake this part together with remembering one of my teachers, Severus Snape, Potions Master and head of Slytherin."

He had expected some groans and protests from some of the students, from Gryffindors as well as from Slytherins at the mentioning of Harry and Severus together, but there were none and looking over the children he couldn't see anything that gave away that they were upset upon his choice.

"When Severus came to me, many years ago, after he had taken the dark mark, he had not asked for my help and protection like so many think." He started, his voice thick with emotions. "He only had asked me to accompany him to the ministry of magic to turn himself in for judgment, one small question for last comfort, nothing else had he done, and nothing else did he expect. Therefore he of course had been utterly shocked when I have offered him a different way, not to redeem himself and not to atone for his sins, because he had done none aside from taking the mark out of his wish to be accepted in a group for once. But I knew that he would not see it this way, that he needed something more than just my forgiveness for guilt only he himself was able to see. And so I asked him to spy on Tom Riddle for the light, something that I maybe should not have done, because it had made Severus a hard and tough man, a harsh man that was as closed off as much as even possible, and even after all those years of spying, Severus still had not believed himself worthy of affection, let alone love."

"It has taken me several months after that to come to care for him as deeply as I do now, but I have to admit that Severus _does_ hold the place of a son in my heart for many years now, even if that stubborn child still refuses to acknowledge the fact that I _do_ love him like just that, never mind how stubborn and short-tempered he had been sometimes." He said, a small and sad smile coming over his face for a moment. "I know, were he here now, our dear Potions Master, he most likely would have skinned me alive for calling him a child, but considering that I am old enough to be his grandfather even, and considering that I simply am not able to help my own feelings towards him, I do not take back those words, because for me, he is a child, _my_ child and I loved him and his sarcastic ways – and I miss him."

"The only thing I never understood was Severus' illogical dislike of Harry." He started to think on the boy that had been so much smaller than his classmates. "Severus normally kept his emotions under such tight control that it always had been difficult to find out exactly _what_ he had been feeling. But somehow he had not been able to control them around Harry. Harry … never mind how much I always try to feel the same for all the students, I have to admit that I have fallen in love with this particular child the moment those big, green eyes had looked up at me with such trust in them when I have placed him on the Dursleys' doorstep so many long years ago. If only I had listened to Minerva and my own heart that night instead of the logic of my brain. I now wished I would have found someone better for the child than those people who hated him and who had made his life with them miserable. I even could have fought for custody over the child myself, or Minerva could have done so, Merlin – even Severus would have been a better guardian for the child than those people had been. And then, seeing the child again, so small and wide-eyed at the sorting feast three years ago, when he had turned eleven, it had broken my heart seeing that the child had looked like he was only eight."

For a moment he was unable to continue and he needed to swallow a few times, noticing that many of the heads in front of him nodded at his words. They all knew how much smaller than anyone else his age Harry had been, and they all knew what had happened when Minerva had visited the Dursleys a few days ago, she had shouted it through the hallways loud enough for anyone to hear, after all.

**Flashback**

_"Albus Dumbledore!" Minerva screeched at him through the corridor that led towards the entrance hall, still wearing her travelling cloak. "Albus Dumbledore! You better __…" She repeated, still screaming at the top of her lungs while she crossed the entrance hall and threw open the doors to the great hall with a force that would make Severus proud of her if he would be present to see her. But he wasn't and neither was Harry. But she had been at Harry's house just minutes ago._

_"Albus Dumbledore!" She shouted a third time the moment she entered the great hall and hurried up to the head table where the headmaster __was sitting at. "How could you, Albus! How in Merlin's name could you!"_

_"Merlin, Minerva! Calm down, what have I done? Calm down and tell me what have upset you, child."_

_"Do not child me, Albus!" The transfiguration professor shouted. "Do not child me! How could you! I told you not to! I told you what I thought of them! I told you to … do you even know what …"_

_"Merlin, calm down, Minerva!" Albus stood and left the table, quickly coming down to where Minerva stood. "What are you speaking of? What have I done this time?"_

_"Placing Harry with the Dursleys, you blasted man of a headmaster!" Minerva still shouted, not minding all the students having stopped eating their dinner and looking over at them expectantly and with wide eyes, hanging on both of their lips. "How could you! I've told you not to! Do you know where I've been just a moment ago? Do you know where I come from right now? No, dear headmaster? I've been at Privet Drive to inform Harry's aunt and uncle about what had happened and about Harry's death and do you know what they did? Do you want to know what that … that … that CREATURES did? They laughed, Albus! They laughed and they went to a restaurant to celebrate the boy's death! Do you know what that blasted man said? Do you want to hear the words he had said? He said that they were glad that – the freak – the FREAK, Albus, finally had managed to get himself killed, that they finally were rid of that burden! And they OPENLY said so, INTO MY FACE, Albus! NOT after I have left them, OH NO, NO, but INTO MY FACE! And do you want to know what that … what that woman said? Lily's sister? Do you … she said that the … that the ABOMINATION … ABOMINATION, Albus, should have died together with his parents and that they had hoped that the freak … AGAIN the FREAK, Albus … would get himself killed SOONER than that! LILY'S SISTER, Albus! Harry was their NEPHEW, their OWN blood, for Merlin's sake! And they … they … she said that they had tried to beat the freakiness out of him for YEARS, Albus, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! Can you imagine? Beating magic out of a child? Can you imagine? Do you know what you have condemned that child to, twelve years ago when you have placed him into their care? Can you …"_

**End flashback**

Minerva had broken down in his arms, sobbing by then, unaware of all the students that had been sitting there, open-mouthed, their eyes wide with horror, even the Slytherins looking horrified, the great hall as silent as it was right now, and Albus quickly had led Minerva out of the hall, had led her into her private chambers where she had calmed down only after he had given her a tumbler of the strong Scottish whiskey she always had a bottle of and a calming draught Poppy had brought over, sobbing herself after she had heard her colleague's outburst in the great hall and then following them.

And she had been right.

How could he have done that to the child? None of them had known. None of them had known what a miserable life Harry had lived at the Dursleys, and it had been his fault, and his alone!

"I have made a lot of mistakes over the years, I have to admit that, but placing Harry with his only living relatives, it had been the gravest mistake I ever have made." He sighed. "And nevertheless, despite the abuse he had been through at the hands of his aunt and uncle, he had grown into a very kind and caring child and I could not have been prouder of the child if he _had_ been my own grandson, and my heart breaks at the thought of all the danger he always had been in, at the thought that I never will get the chance to talk to that child again, that I never will have the chance to make amends for the treatment I have put him through over the years by placing him at the Dursleys. Both of my boys, Severus as well as Harry, I have wronged in so many ways and now they are gone before I can tell them how much I have cared about them, how much I am sorry for what I have done to them, and how deeply I have loved them. Thank you."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Will Professor Dumbledore make me going back to the Dursley's?" Harry said in a quivering whisper, just as if he had known what exactly was said two floors over their heads in the great hall, but his question was so quiet that Severus could barely hear it. And yet – he _did_ hear and his heart clenched at his child still fearing that he would be sent back to those monsters.

"Never, child, I will not let him send you back, I promise that to you." He said, running his hand through the boy's raven mop of hair. "You will be going home with me. Even Death Eaters or the Dark Lord himself would not be able to get into the wards at my manor as my ancestors have been quite a bit paranoid for centuries. The wards on Prince Manor are almost as old as the ones on Hogwarts, but they are even stronger than the castle's wards, since I do not have to let in parents and visitors like Hogwarts does. Besides of that, I highly doubt that Albus even _would_ send you back if he knows what had happened in that house."

"But he doesn't." Harry quietly said, averting his eyes.

"And you think I will not tell him, Harry?" He said, lifting his hand at the horrified look that crept over the child's pale face. "No, Harry. There is no way around that. I will tell the headmaster, and I will make sure that he will not send you back. You will live at my manor and that is final!"

"You _really_ would let me live at your home?" Harry asked, his eyes still so unsure.

"You are my son now, Harry, aren't you?" Severus asked. "I know that you still fear I only had adopted you because I thought there would be no consequences as we would die down here anyway. I know that you still fear that I would abandon you after we leave those dungeons alive, but that will never happen. You are my son now and you do not know how much I have become to care for you, to … Merlin, I admit it … to love you even, Harry."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter." Minerva started after Albus had left the speaker's desk that was placed in front of the high table. "Those are the students in my house that are missing, Gryffindors, but they are not the only ones. Altogether there are seventeen students and a teacher missing, one of my colleagues, and they were Gryffindors as well as Slytherins. They are not only missed in the sense of being absent, but in the true meaning of the word just as well – they are missed."

"The most studious girl in my house was Hermione." She said, taking a deep breath. "Some even called her a know-it-all, but she always was ready to help others with their studies. She was a very kind and gentle witch that never hurt anyone, and she was – even if muggle born – a very powerful witch as well. Rarely a young witch or wizard is able to manage a levitating spell upon the first try, but Hermione has and like this all her studies has been throughout the three years she has attended Hogwarts. She was loved and respected amongst most of the student body and the teachers, by her parents and her friends, and she will be missed deeply, as will be Parvati."

"Parvati was a girl that was just as kind and gentle as was Hermione and Lavender, who was her friend." She went on, unsure of what to say at all. She had not known those two girls as well as she had known Harry, Ronald and Hermione who always had ended up in one trouble or another – and therefore in reach of her attention. "Both girls have been calm and quiet, barely noticed amongst the students and only in later years Lavender has started to be a bit more expressive, while Parvati always has remained very quiet, just like Neville. But even if both girls has been rather average students, they both _did_ have their fields of expertise where they exceeded and where they have made me proud of them, for being their teacher and for being their head of house."

"Neville was a rather clumsy boy, a boy that has messed up with nearly everything, but his loyalty and the bravery hidden beneath his clumsiness have been astonishing." She said, her eyes wandering towards Augusta Longbottom who was sitting at the left bench beside her brother Algie and who dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "He was ready to stand up for his friends – or even against them – when it really mattered and he will be missed a lot not only by most of the Gryffindors and teachers, but by his grandmother as well. And just as well as by many of the plants Neville always has cared for so deeply and so successfully."

"Seamus and Dean on the other hand, they have been more expressive and boisterous, typical boys that laughed and played around, that enjoyed life with all it offered to them, ready to partake in all the joys and in any prank that was played at Hogwarts throughout the years." Again her eyes wandered off to the parents of those two boys, noticing that the parents of Seamus, even if they were muggles, had no eyes for the wonders that the wizarding world and Hogwarts especially offered. Of course not, their son was missed, most likely had died, and she sighed. "And yet, they have been students that have been ready to learn and to study hard to make the people around them proud, they took both sides that life offered, joy as well as work and therefore they have been very good students any teacher could have been proud of. And I am proud to have had them in my house."

"What brings me to Ronald and Harry." She finally said, looking over at Molly who had her face hidden in Arthur's shoulder, Ginny sitting between them. The girl had not come back to Hogwarts since Poppy had sent her home and she did not sit with the other students right now. "Ronald and Harry, two boys that were as different as are day and night. Ronald was a young wizard that more struggled through his studies than anything else while Harry put more effort into learning than Ronald did. On the other hand was Ronald able to enjoy life in all its folds while Harry never has managed this. Harry could laugh, yes, but it never has been an open laugh that really reached his eyes. But while Ronald's studies have been less acceptable, he nevertheless was not stupid. On the contrary, alone his chess games that always has been rather spectacular, especially one particular I remember he played during his first year, proved that he had a brilliant mind. If only he would have used it to more than pranks played on the Slytherins. Those two sometimes drove me mad, I have to admit, but on the other hand, they both have been able to worm their ways into anyone's heart, especially Harry with his green eyes that resembled his mother's, Lily's, so much. Lily, who had died to protect her son and now Harry too has died. It makes me sad to think that all of the Potters are gone now, that an entire old wizarding family is gone, wiped from the wizarding world. Ronald is not the last Weasley, but to think that the red-haired young wizard with his freckles has died, is a very lousy thought just as much nevertheless."

"They both will be missed." She continued after she had taken another deep breath and slowly had released it. "They both will be missed just as much as all the other students, Gryffindors as well as Slytherins. They all will be missed just as much as Severus, who always tried to keep them as safe and as hard-working as possible, and I am sure that he has done all that was in his power to keep those seventeen students alive, never mind if they were in his own house or not, and I am sure that he had tried to keep all of them as comfortable as long and as good as was within his powers. Never mind how sarcastic and never mind how cold he always seemed to be, he _did_ care about the students, always, and while there might not be many who miss him, I will, I already do, and I do miss him very deeply, thank you."

During all her words she had spoken the pictures of the children she was speaking of went through her mind, but the one picture that was Harry Potter, it nearly had her sobbing in front of her audience and she wished she had Severus' ability to mask emotions, to lock them away until privacy was given.

Slowly she went back to the head table to regain her seat and to leave the speaker's desk for someone else while again the pictures of the boy's relatives came to her mind, wondering how anyone could treat a child like that, especially a kind child like Harry.

**Flashback**

_"My name is Minerva McGonagall." She said after Petunia quickly had __pulled her in, fearing the neighbours would see her. "I'm your nephew's head of house at Hogwarts."_

_"__I know." The woman spat at her. "I do remember you from my sister after all. What do you want?" The woman then asked and Minerva frowned at her. She knew that Petunia was not fond of wizards but that surely didn't justify her unkind words. _

_"Maybe you want to sit down first, Mrs. Dursley." Minerva quietly said, knowing that the news she brought would upset the boy's aunt greatly and she feared that maybe Petunia Dursley could faint upon them._

_"That won't be necessary." The woman however said, glowering at her. "Say what you have to say and then leave."_

_"Who's that?" Vernon Dursley who came out of their living room asked, watching her with horror on his face. Well, she had to admit that maybe she should have changed into something else than her robes before coming here, but she simply had not thought about that. Severus would have thought about such, but Severus wasn't here, Severus was locked down in the dungeons, together with the other students, together with the other children, __together with Harry and she didn't even know if he still was alive. _

_"It's one of them." Petunia answered her husband with a sneer on her face and Minerva's frown deepened. _

_"Maybe it really is best if you take a seat before I __…" She started again, but she was interrupted by Petunia's husband and for a moment she inwardly shook her head. Poor Lily, having had to deal with a brother-in-law like that, she thought. _

_"Taking a seat?" The man said, looking at her outraged. "I won't __… just say what you have to say and then leave, quickly, we haven't all night after all!"_

_"I won't keep you long, Mr. __and Mrs. Dursley." She huffed indignantly at their display of aversion in front of her. "I only came to bring the sad news of … well … I am sorry, but your nephew has died yesterday evening. We have …"_

_"What do you mean, he's died?" Vernon Dursley asked, pushing his wife aside and approaching her with his face red._

_"The fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins have been locked down in the dungeons, in the potions classroom, since the second of September due to …"_

_"Are you sure that he's died?" Petunia asked, blinking at her in shock, her thoughts racing as it seemed._

_"Yes, we are." Minerva answered. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dursley, but the wards …"_

_"That means … Petunia!" Vernon Dursley gasped, looking over at his wife and never mind their unkind display towards her, she felt horrible for them, losing their nephew and not even having the chance to bury his body. "Petunia! That means we're finally rid of the freak! That means the freak finally has managed to get himself killed! We're finally rid of that freakish burden!"_

_Burden __…_

_Freak …_

_Being rid of …_

_Just slowly the words were registered in her brain and s__he was speechless at them, really speechless, blinking from Vernon Dursley to Petunia Dursley, gazing from one to the other, not really understanding the words Vernon Dursley had said. Surely that man had not meant those words he had spoken just a moment before. How …_

_"So it really is true?" The woman asked, her face nearly happy. "__It really is true? The freak is dead? Finally! Even if I've hoped he would've gotten himself killed a bit sooner than that! It was about time, really!"_

_"What do you mean by this?" Minerva couldn't help asking, their words finally sinking in fully and her face grew white with horror._

_"Isn't that obvious?" Petunia Dursley asked. "This abomination should have died together with his abominable parents! But no! We've been burdened with the freak! We've tried to beat that freakishness out of him for years, but without success and his abominable ways only have become unbearable over the years! But well, he's finally gone! Better late than never, isn't it, Vernon?"_

_"How … how dare you?" Minerva gasped, shocked. "How … you surely do not mean your words … you surely …"_

_"Oh, stop this, woman." Vernon Dursley laughed at her. "Just leave this house so we can go to celebrate this happy, happy, day. What do you think, Petunia? Will the Greek be sufficient?"_

_"I'd say so." Petunia answered, not even caring about her, Minerva, being still present. __"But next year we'll go to the Italian."_

_"Whatever you want, dear Petunia, whatever you want." Vernon Dursley said, shoving her – Minerva – out of the way to go and get his jacket, calling for his son, Dudley Dursley. _

**End flashback**

Not even five minutes later she had stood alone in their house. The Dursleys had been so eager to leave for the restaurant to celebrate that _'happy, happy day'_ that they even had forgotten about her, about throwing her out before they had left.

She always had suspected that the boy's relatives had never really cared about him, that they even never had provided him with much food, or even particularly healthy meals, but she never would have thought that the child had been hated there so much, that the child had been beaten too and Harry himself had refused to even talk about his home life at all. She knew from his friends that they had sent him packages of food for his birthday every summer, and nevertheless she had witnessed that each fall when he returned to school, that he had been so thin and that it was several weeks before he could manage to eat a normal amount of food that would be typical for a teenage boy. And he surely would never have managed to shovel away as much as Weasley always had if he still lived. But he didn't.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Ron could have been a git sometimes, being a little brother and that, but I guess that was normal." Fred said after both of the twins had approached the speaker's desk, but this time they, for once, did not speak in turns. "I guess all little brothers are like this. And all the same, even with all our teasing him, we _did_ love him, don't mistake us for that. He was a lazy ass, yes, and he was a pantywaist too, yes, but he always was great for a joke or a prank, and not only for being pranked by us, but for pranking others just as well. And whenever he did, then mum didn't found out that we've been planning something on our own. But he wasn't just lazy and he wasn't just good with pranks. He was the best chess player of all the times, he even beat McGon- … sorry, Professor. He even beat Professor McGonagall's chess game in his first year, and _that one_ had been called the greatest game of all times by the headmaster himself. But his most valuable traits were – he was loyal. He would have done anything to stand up for his family or friends. He was loyal and he was brave, following Harry down the forbidden trap in his first year, down into the chamber of secrets in his second year and to meet werewolves and the grim in the forbidden forest last year, even if it wasn't really the grim, they didn't know that back then after all – that was our little brother! However, what I simply mean is – he was brave, he was loyal and he was kind, and we miss him."

"We know that aside from the Slytherins no one will say something for Snape, and so we will." George said when Fred stepped back a bit, making room for him. "He really could have been a git sometimes just as well, and a bastard when he wanted to be, no doubt about that, but he _did_ care, even if he never showed it. And _we_ should know, after all. He caught us making one of our potions during our first year and he gave us detention and demanded we hand over our formulas, all of them, and our notes. And when we went to the dungeons that night, he lectured us on the dangers of creating experimental potions, of course he did, he was a teacher after all. But then he had us sitting at a desk, not to make us writing lines or something like that, but he made us going over all of our own formulas together with him and he told us how to improve them and how to make them safe – basically he gave us the ok, even if he said that if he ever caught us experimenting again or use our stuff in his class, he'd use us as potions ingredients. Well, last year he caught us again, and yet – we're still here, and he even offered an apprenticeship to us. So – you see, he isn't that bad really. He always kept us safe in potions and he never – and we know that too, because we often came to him for asking questions about potions – turned a student down who wanted to learn and came to him with a question. One just had to see behind his snarkiness. And if I have to be honest – I _do_ miss him. Thank you."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Professor Snape was our head of house." Marcus Flint, the Slytherin prefect, finally said, after he had spoken about the missing students in his house, his voice quiet and his eyes wandered over the Slytherins in the crowd, resting upon one or another student, his Slytherins, just like the Potions Master's dark eyes would have done. "Professor Snape _is_ our head of house, because in our hearts he always will be just that. We all know that his reputation was that of a harsh and cruel dungeons bat. A bastard he was called by some of you, a vampire or a Death Eater, unfair he was called, preferring his own house over all of the other students. But no one really watched. Otherwise they would have seen that Professor Snape only tried to balance the unfairness that was bestowed upon his house. Slytherin is a shunned house because of a bad reputation one dark wizard has caused and Slytherin is handled accordingly by students and teachers alike, and so he was there for us where no one else has been. Of course he was there for us, as was his duty as a head of house. Professor McGonagall is there for her own house, as is Professor Flitwick and as is Professor Sprout. Professor Snape was there for us whenever we needed him and we could not have wished for a better head of house, because he cared." He took a deep breath and again looked over the students, over all of them this time.

"Points he has taken from all of your houses, except his own, sarcastic he was, and harsh he was, yes, but none of you knew that in privacy he punished us just as much as he did you, he just did in a different way. But the impositions he bestowed upon you if necessary, they never have been senseless lines that wouldn't have been registered anyway but he always had you writing essays about the subjects of your deeds. Essays that made you think about what you did, that made you think about why you should not have done it, and that made you think of what could have happened in the worst case scenario. He didn't just punish you, he made you think. But none of you have ever thought about that. And never mind how many of you think different, I do know that he worried much about all of you, that he cared about all of you, and I do know that he had many sleepless nights because of you just as well as because of us. Because he cared. And that is the reason he will be missed within the house of Slytherin, it is the reason he will be missed by me, because he simply cared. Thank you."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Alright, what would _you_ have done today if you were out of here, Hermione?" Draco asked after he had answered the very same question, telling the small group that he would have been in the library for some time, that he would have enjoyed lunch, and that he would have gone to bed early. Yes, he rarely knew a child that – even during good times – could sleep and eat as much as could Draco, even if the boy never looked as if he ate as much as he actually did and with his eyebrow lifted at his godson he couldn't help thinking of the boy's father, Lucius, not for the first time wondering if the blond Death Eater had led the attack.

"I would have lain by the lake, enjoying the last rays of sunlight." Hermione said, her eyes closed, smiling. "Of course I would have gone to the library at one point or another. Knowing Harry – we most likely would be in need of one answer or another. But at first I would have lain by the lake and enjoying the last rays of sunlight. Harry, what would you have done today if you were out of here?"

There was a pause for a moment, but then an answer came that had him lifting his eyebrow at this child just as well.

"I would have picked flowers for my girl-friend." Harry said and some of them blinked stupidly at that comment.

"You have a girl?" Draco asked startled, his eyes large on Harry and he, Severus, narrowed his eyes at the black-haired boy.

"Oh – I haven't?" The boy then asked, blinking at them as if he were confused. "Why haven't anyone of you told me that I don't have a girl? Now I have picked all those flowers!"

"You're stupid, Snape!" Draco shook his head, laughing.

"What are you doing with the flowers now, Harry?" Ronald asked.

Again there was a small pause before Harry gave an answer.

"Well …" Harry made, clearly stalling for time. "… you see … I don't want to throw them away, now that I have picked them … those poor flowers … so I think – and you won't fight with me over this, this will be _my_ honour and mine alone – I'll give them to uncle Voldie."

"You what …"

"Are you …"

"You're …"

"I want to …"

"Surely not, Weasley, I'll do …"

"But not without me and …"

"Hey, I said it's my …"

"Well, _that_, ladies and gentlemen, explains a lot about the mental disorder you all seem to suffer from, because if you intend to give those flowers to the Dark Lord, you would have to go through his Death Eaters first, Mr. Snape." Severus drawled, walking over to the teens and watching the child's face, the green eyes, trying to figure out if the boy really could be as stupid, suicidal and utterly foolish as to trying a stunt like this, or if it really was a joke only. "And how exactly, Mr. Snape, would you do such a thing?"

"Dunno, dad." The boy said, thoughtfully. "I think, I'll have to …"

His eyes that still were on him widened when he trailed off mid sentence and the look in them became utterly shocked, frightened and …

"I'm sorry, sir …" He started to utter and Severus just lifted his eyebrow at him.

"There is no reason to be." He calmly said – despite his furiously beating heart at the boy's words. "What however is it, son, you would have done in order to go through the Dark Lord's Death Eaters – just to present him with … _flowers_?"

"Uhm …" The boy made, slowly calming down. "I don't know, sir …"

"I don't know – _what_, Mr. Snape?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow and the boy blinked at him in confusion.

"I … uhm … I don't …"

"Dad, Snape, are you dense?" Draco whispered, leaning over to the boy that gasped at the blond and then looked wide-eyed at him, Severus, and again he lifted his eyebrow challengingly, daring the boy to repeat the word he had spoken earlier without thinking.

"I don't know … dad?" Harry asked unsurely and the older wizard had troubles keeping a straight face at the brat.

"Was this a question, son, or was it a statement?" He asked, his eyes still fixed on the boy. He didn't know how much time they had left, he didn't know if they would survive at all, he didn't know anything right now, but what he knew was, that he did _not_ want the child being unsure of their relationship for the rest of his life, never mind how long or short his life would be.

"I … I don't … I don't know …?" The boy unsurely said, starting to get desperate.

"I don't know – _what_?" He asked again, pulling a chair from the table and sitting down, directly in front of his son, his eyes never leaving the pale face and he gripped the edges of the chair the boy was sitting at, turned it with Harry still sitting upon it, causing a scratching sound as the chair scratched over the stony ground until the boy's knees were between his own so the boy had to face him.

"I … I just … I just don't know …" Harry said and he narrowed his eyes at the boy, daring him to go on. "I don't know … I don't know what you …" Again he paused for a moment, before his shoulders slumped and he averted his eyes. "I don't know what you expect from me." He then quietly whispered.

"What do you think I could expect from you, Harry?" He said, lifting his hand when the boy shook his head and opened his mouth to give an answer. "I know what you probably want to say, Harry, and I do understand your unsureness. And you, Draco Malfoy, you better stop your smirk right now. You always have had parents, even if your father might not be a picture-book father, but you always _had_ them in the first place and so you have learned what they expected of you from the beginning on, what your father expected of you and what your mother expected of you. _You_ however, Harry, your parents died when you were too young to remember them now and you never did have a father that could have taught you what a father would expect of a son since. The Dursleys surely had not been the ideal role models of adequate caretakers, they have been far from that actually, and so you of course never have learned what a normal adult, a father, would expect from his son, what _I_ probably could expect from you."

He grabbed the boy's chin and lifted his head, his dark eyes on the child's green ones.

"What I expect from you, son, is that you do your best, never mind if it is with learning, with surviving this situation here, or with anything else you do, even if it is just – addressing me with a title you wish to address me with. Do not forget, Mr. Snape, that I indeed _am_ your father now, and so do not hesitate addressing me as such if you so wish."

There were long minutes during which Severs stared into his son's eyes and his son stared back into his, Severus', during which no one uttered a single word, but then the boy in front of him took a deep breath and his tongue slipped out to wet his dry lips.

"Ok, dad." The boy said, not like a question right now, but like a statement and only his green eyes were at him unsurely.

"Good, son." Severus answered, his hand coming up to run through the boy's unruly hair, ignoring the slight flinch the boy still gave away when watching his hand coming closer. "Do not forget it, because I _am_ your father and I do not intend to change this fact at any time. I _am_ your father and I will _remain_ your father. And thus you are expected to address me as such."

He watched the child for a bit longer, but then he gave a curt nod and got off the chair, went back to his desk and slipped back into the armchair behind, continued writing down what had happened throughout the day, including the fact that Harry, that his son, still was so unsure of not only himself, but their relationship as well.

Otherwise it had been a calm day, most of the children chatting away time quietly, others reading or sleeping a lot, but it had been a day that had been strange nevertheless, as if there had been something that had been going on in the castle, and he wondered what exactly it had been.

For a moment he even had been sure that Hereweald had been here, had felt his presence, but then he had shrugged the thought off. Most likely his emotions had played a prank on him. And he _had_ to admit that they started to play havoc, even with him. He last had talked to Hereweald at the beginning of the summer holidays, and most likely his inner something wanted to talk to his best friend once more before dying, whatever reason for, and therefore he had imagined feeling his presence at the castle. Hereweald had no reason to come here after all.

"What kind of flowers does You-Know-Who like best, anyway?" He heard Neville asking after a while, after some more minutes during which silence had been in the room, apparently all of them thinking for themselves.

"It doesn't matter." He heard Harry's quiet answer. "As long as they're pink."

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"Severus Snape." The stranger said. "He carried his name rightly as his given name is connected to 'severity' and 'strictness' and his surname to 'be hard upon'. He was born on the 9th of January in the year 1960 at Spinner's End and despite being a strict, a harsh and a proud man in later years, he always had been a very quiet and gentle child. I have known him since his earliest childhood and for me, he was something like a son as I never had own children and Severus' parents had been anything but kind, gentle or loving."

The speeches had gone on all day long and it started to get dark outside now. From time to time some of the visitors had left the great hall to walk a few minutes outside, to get something to eat or to drink, but they all had returned rather soon. At one point people had started to approach others, friends, their parents, their children, their siblings, and every now and then quiet whisper was being heard. But otherwise still – people listened.

"Later on Severus had changed." The stranger continued. "But it is hard not to change if you never got a chance, and Severus never _had_ gotten one aside from this one time when Dumbledore offered him a post as a teacher, head of house and spy. And due to his three jobs, of which neither one had been easy, he had become even more harsh and tough over the years. Those three jobs have formed him like the wind would form a mountain, leaving sharp angles and dark corners over the years and centuries. Many people had been determined to hate Severus and I even can understand them, Severus has gone all length to make himself unpopular after all, but no one has an idea of how much he always cared. I know him since a long time, and we often had been sitting together for a cup of coffee or a mug of mead and he often spoke about his students, not only the Slytherins, but the students from other houses as well. The last time we had been sitting together had been during the summer holidays when he visited me, and he told me about what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. He had said that he for the first time had noticed something that was strange about Harry Potter, something that did not fit into the picture of being a spoilt brat. I knew him well enough to know that if Severus noticed something that was amiss, then it had to be serious and so I asked him what it was. And he told me that any other student would have hesitated, would never have attacked a teacher, but Harry Potter had done so when he had been about to hand over Sirius Black to the dementors. Harry apparently had not wanted to lose Sirius Black and apparently he had been ready to attack a teacher for this. Only a desperate child would have done so, and after what I have learned about Harry Potter today, I have to agree with Severus. The child must have been very desperate, maybe hoping that he could live with his godfather instead of with his abusive relatives. And Severus noticed it even though he was not a student of his own house. And after this, he even had made excuses for the boy, had told his Minister of Magic that the child had been used by Sirius Black through a confundus charm. I'm sure that Severus had known the boy would have been expelled for attacking a teacher, and I'm sure that he wanted to have a closer look into the home life of Harry Potter, he always has done so upon suspicions of child abuse."

Well, that was new to most of them and even Albus Dumbledore looked startled at him. The minister himself looked nearly outraged. Well, _his_ speech hadn't been the best either, the black clad man thought with a grim expression on his angular face. The Minister of Magic had said a few words about the children being captured, but nothing about Severus at all.

"So – yes, Severus _had_ cared about his students, always, and about _all_ of them. Often it had seemed at odds, what Severus had said and what he had done, but he always had kept true to himself. He simply never has trusted people enough to speak openly, merely giving them hints and hidden advises. One just had to use his brain to come to the right conclusion but rarely people did and so most of them thought that Severus was strange, cold and uncaring. A picture that had suited the Potions Master _I_ knew very well, but I also know that in truth he was _very_ caring and I simply have grown to love this irritable, grumpy and bitter man like a son. And I miss him, and deeply so."

Just as well as he could see that they all wondered who he was, he also could see that everyone seemed to think that he would stop here, and that they waited for the thank you, but it didn't come. Instead he took a deep breath and continued.

"You, the students that had been Severus', the Slytherins, you are without a head of house right now and except for your prefects you have no one who speaks for your friends and siblings that are down in the dungeons, as your head of house is with them right now, dead or alive still, no one knows. And therefore I will do this honour for your friends and siblings, for your house, as I have done for Severus."

Many gasps were heard at this and heads turned to look at each others.

"I do not know many of you, and aside from Draco I only do know the names of the students that are still locked in the dungeons. It is hard to not know their names as they have been mentioned in every paper that exists in the wizarding world, and as they have been mentioned in every wireless just as well, but I think it isn't important what I know of them, because they have been human beings." His eyes wandered over the students for a moment before inclining his head towards the parents that still sat at the bench to the left of the speaker's desk, his right hand going towards them in an open gesture.

"Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass. They have been children, they have been teenagers. They have been students. They have been friends and they have been brothers or sisters. They have been sons and they have been daughters. They have been classmates and they have been housemates. They have – simply been, like every single one of those seventeen students has been, and I am sure, I even do _know_ this, and I can promise you, that Severus Snape has done all in his power to provide them, _all_ of them, with comfort, with whatever edible things had been down there in his potions laboratory, and with anything else they have been in need of, even with kind words if necessary. I can promise you, that he had not let them alone, that he had been there – to keep them as comfortable as possible, to keep them alive as long as possible, and to keep them sane as long as possible."

He clicked his fingers and a house elf appeared, a small creature that wore a clean and large toga with a crest none of them ever had seen, an axe crossing a sword on a shield, and the fact that the house elf wore a toga in the first place indicated that he came from an old and pureblood family. And yet no one knew the family crest on the small creature's toga when the elf handed him a drinking-horn that he lifted into the direction of the students as soon as the house elf had disappeared.

"The house of Salazar Slytherin, a house that is worth being proud of." He then said, his dark brown eyes suddenly hard and pitiless. "Dermed jeg drikker opp Severus Snape, en stolt mann, en modig kriger og en betrodd venn. Kan du finne din vei til Odin's Hall – skål, min venn." He said, lifting the drinking-horn at his lips and emptying its contents in one go before throwing it to his right in a harsh and angry gesture, directly at the feet of the ministry officials who looked startled at the item that lay there unmoving, accusingly, not even dripping one drop of the mead it had been filled with before the stranger had emptied it in one go.

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down and turned back to the students who looked at him startled and wide eyed. "And still – you are without a head of house right now – and so listen and remember: my name is Hereweald Hrothgar from Norway, and if you ever need someone willing to continue Severus Snape's work, then you will have to find me. Takk skal du ha, thank you!"

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_transfiguration and pink flowers  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	22. transfiguration and pink flowers

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"The house of Salazar Slytherin, a house that is worth being proud of." He then said, his dark brown eyes suddenly hard and pitiless. __"Dermed jeg drikker opp Severus Snape, en stolt mann, en modig kriger og en betrodd venn. Kan du finne din vei til Odin's Hall – skål, min venn." __He said, lifting the drinking-horn at his lips and emptying its contents in one go before throwing it to his right in a harsh and angry gesture, directly at the feet of the ministry officials who looked startled at the item that lay there unmoving, accusing, not even dripping one drop of the mead it had been filled with before the stranger had emptied it in one go._

_Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down and turned back to the students who looked at him startled and wide-eyed. "And still – you are without a head of house right now – and so listen and remember: my name is Hereweald Hrothgar from Norway, and if you ever need someone willing to continue Severus Snape's work, then you will have to find me. __Takk skal du ha, thank you!"_

**Chapter twenty-two**

**Day ****sixteen – Monday, ****seventeenth of September**

**Transfiguration and pink flowers**

"Could we do transfiguration today, sir?" Harry asked tiredly and Severus looked over at the child. He looked as tired as his voice sounded, dark circles beneath his eyes indicating that he didn't sleep too well lately, nor too long or much. The boy was getting weaker and weaker by the day now and he could see the daily changes clearly.

"Of course we could, Harry." He quietly answered, trying to put up a good front. The last thing the child right now needed was worrying because he noticed that _he_ was worried. "What is it you do not understand?"

"Well, the transfiguration from one magical creature into another one." The boy answered and Hermione quickly came over to them, as well as Draco and Theodore.

Ronald Weasley, Gregory and Vincent were playing a game of chess and wool, whatever exactly that was. It however contained the chess pieces and trying to make them jump over the bits of wool that the boys had tightened criss-cross like over the chess board, making the chess pieces stumbling off the board in the attempt. He just hadn't found out the purpose of the game yet, as – apparently – Vincent was in the lead while Ronald had more pieces and Gregory less pieces than him laying beside the board.

Well, maybe the only purpose of the game was to make the chessmen jumping at all, and for a moment he remembered a scene a few days ago. He didn't quite remember _when_ _exactly_ it had happened, and he was too tired to have a look into his records right now, but it had been at one day or another during the beginning and it had been an important moment, at least in his opinion, and not only for Harry, but for the others as well.

Maybe even for him.

**Flashback**

_"Sir!" __Potter called out, actually screamed through the room, startling all of them. "Professor!"_

_"What is it, Mr. Potter?" He asked, coming over to the table the children had shoved together just __the day before, his dark eyes searchingly on the smallest one of his students but he could see nothing that could be wrong. The child however had his eyes on the game of chess they were playing and he frowned, large green eyes staring transfixed at the chessboard._

_"The pawn, sir!" The boy called out, his eyes still never leaving the board. _

_"It is about to checkmate you, Potter, yes." He drawled. "Very impressive, being defeated by a pawn."_

_"No!" The boy frowned, finally looking up at him, his eyes unbelieving as if he should see something that wasn't there._

_"Of course the pawn has you in checkmate!" He growled. Did Potter have nothing else in his mind than calling him over, over a game of chess he was about to lose? Did he think he had nothing else to do? No potions to brew? He was trying to keep them alive as long as possible after all, for Merlin's sake! "And it is not even the only chess piece that has you in checkmate."_

_"Yes!" The boy finally admitted and he took a deep breath. "But the pawn jumped!"_

_"Of course it jumped, Potter!" He said, shaking his head. "Chessmen do display __this particular habit after all."_

_"But, don't you see?" The boy gasped, nearly stumbling over his own words in his excitement. "They can jump and they can move, and walk and destroy the other pieces. And they even can talk and listen to what we say! So __… I mean, surely they can leave … if we tell them to go to the headmaster and tell him … or open the door from the outside … or … or anything!"_

_Draco by now looked up at him questioningly, as did Theodore, Weasley and Longbottom._

_"I begin to see your excitement, Mr. Potter." He said, narrowing his eyes, first at Potter and then at the chess pieces. "I however wonder what exactly we would have those chessmen doing when leaving the dungeon – or how they could open the door from the outside if not even the headmaster has been able to until now."_

_"I don't know, sir, but it surely would be worth a try?" Potter asked hopefully._

_"Would they even be able to leave the dungeon?" Draco asked with a mixture of worry and hope. _

_"I don't know, Draco." The Potions Master answered slowly. "But I think you might be right, Mr. Potter. It definitely would be worth a try. So – go on and ask one of them to leave the dungeon with a message for the headmaster."_

_"Me?" Potter asked, looking up at him startled and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy._

_"Of course you, Mr. Potter." He answered. "It has been your idea after all."_

_"Oh." The boy made, blinking at him stupidly. Well, considering the fact that Potter had been neglected by his relatives – it wasn't so startling that he didn't believe anyone could ask him of all people to do this._

_"Well?" He asked, just to get the boy from looking at him with those blasted wide green eyes and picking a chessman instead__, asking it to leave the dungeon and to deliver a message to the headmaster._

_"Oh." Potter made a second time, but then he turned towards the chess board and after another moment during which he took a deep breath, he addressed the remaining chess pieces on the board. "You, white knight, can you leave the chessboard and the classroom? And go to the headmaster and tell him that we're still alive but need help in getting out of the dungeon? Or that he at least tried to send something down to eat? Maybe he could send a house elf down, or Fawks, he did so in my second year, and he could bring something to eat, or he could get us out of here. Fawks surely would manage, he carried Lockhart, Ron, Ginny and me after all!"_

_Well, the white knight bowed and jumped off the board and then off the table, onto one of the chairs and from there to the floor, rolling along the floor for a few inches as if trying to absorb the fall. But then he got to his feet and started running towards the door and for a moment Severus Snape really thought it might work. _

**End flashback**

But it hadn't worked.

The knight _still_ was running along the walls of the dungeons, searching for a way out without finding one. They even had lifted him up so he maybe could slip through the keyhole, but it had been in vain, it hadn't been able to leave the classroom, to go through the barrier the castle had built up around this area.

The knight even had refused to go back to the game, to _any_ game since, and the students had been forced to play without it. But it had been a great idea nonetheless, one that had shown that Harry wasn't stupid at all, that he had imagination and that he could think of the unlikeliest of all possibilities in a dire situation, and so he had given him five points for his idea, never mind if it had worked or not.

Of course the child had been dejected afterwards, had refused the points he had given him, telling him that he didn't deserve them as it had been a stupid idea and he even had gone as far as wiping them away when he had drawn them on the blackboard despite the child's protests.

Back then he hadn't been too pleased about the boy's stubbornness and disobedient behaviour, but he had not commented on it, knowing already _why_ Harry had acted like this, and he simply had redrawn them later, while the teenager had been asleep. But now, now he knew _exactly_ why Harry had refused them, why he had thought that he was unworthy of them, that he didn't deserve them. This particular child simply was _too_ unsure of himself, of his actions, of his ideas, of his words even, of his existence. This child simply had a _too_ low opinion of himself, never mind what he tried to tell him, as this low opinion had been beaten into him for twelve years.

He wasn't even sure if Harry had noticed those five points being re-added at one point or another since, and he had not dared asking him since either, fearing that the debate might come up anew. He would tell him when they were out of here, _if_ they would manage getting out of here, that was.

However – right now Ronald, Gregory and Vincent had the chess pieces jumping over pieces of wool, Millicent, Pansy, Parvati and Lavender were sleeping and the others were reading. Dean and Seamus looked up from their books for a moment after hearing Harry's question, but then they continued their reading. Well, it weren't school related books they read after all. He had allowed them to take some of the books he had in his office where he kept not only the school books, but novels and collections of poems or none-fictional texts as well.

Of course Hermione had chosen the school books from year five to year seven – all of them, reading them one by one, but some of the other children had started reading the novels, just to have something that occupied their minds.

"Well, the transfiguration from one magical creature into another one is not easy and can be very dangerous, a reason as to why it is taught in your NEWT years only." Severus answered with a frown. He had not realized that Harry had gotten so far ahead with reading. He knew that the boy had chosen the textbooks from year five meanwhile, at least in the subjects transfiguration, charms and defence and – even potions, he thought with a smirk on his face. But the book he right now had laying open on the table was a sixth year book.

"Yes, the book says so." Harry said while Neville too came over to their table and sat down beside Draco, something he often did, he noticed, sitting beside Draco. "There was a wizard that wanted to transfigure a rat into a mouse and he incanted the spell the wrong way and the rat ended up as a lion that nearly ate him."

"Indeed." Severus agreed, remembering the example. "In order to transfigure a magical creature into another magical creature, we should first know that they are different, not only in their looks, but in their magic as well. The magic of a rat definitely is different from that of a gecko for example and the magic of a lacewing fly is different from that of a bug, even if both are insects. The magic of a mouse however, and the magic of a rat, are the same as well as is the magic of a gecko and the magic of a lizard."

"So, saurian have the same magic?" Hermione asked and he frowned at the girl.

"Did you not read all the textbooks up to seventh year, Hermione?" He asked the girl.

"Uhm, yes, sir." Hermione answered. "I did. But I didn't understand this particular chapter either."

"Then, why did you not ask, child?" He inquired, his eyes piercing the girl's.

"Well, I didn't …" The Gryffindor girl stammered. "I mean … you see, you're … I didn't want to bother …"

"I don't know what it is with all of you Gryffindors, but as it seems, you still fear I might bit off your head if you come to me with a question." He growled. "I never have turned a student away who actually wanted to learn something and I surely will not start doing so now. If you have a question, if you do not understand something, then you ought to come and ask. I _am_ a teacher after all. And even if I am the Potions Professor, I am sure that I would be able to answer you most questions concerning transfiguration, charms or defence just as well. I have visited school after all."

"Uhm … well … yes, sir." The girl said, blushing a deep red what gave her otherwise pale face a bit of a colour.

"And stop the _'sir'_." He growled a moment later, not really sure why he did this. "It is Severus, to all of you. Some upper grades of my Slytherins are already allowed to use my given name anyway and so it won't hurt if you do the same – in _privacy_! We have come rather close after all and if I call you by your given names, you may do the same." He huffed at himself and his foolish emotional outburst.

This unfortunate imprisonment wasn't good for him or his emotional state, as it seemed! He would have Poppy having checking his mental health after they were … well …

Well, it just wasn't good for _any_ of them, was it?

"However, generally spoken yes, Hermione, saurian _do_ have the same magic." He quickly answered the girl's earlier question to get rid of his own feelings of foolishness – and to end the surprised looks the children regarded him with. "With a few exceptions however – like the lacewing fly – which have to be learned by heart as there is no pattern to them. The lacewing fly might be an insect, but it has not the same magic as have insects generally. And the same goes for all categories concerning magical creatures. Generally they have the same magic, but there are exceptions. Other categories are small feline and large feline, and feline that stem from wolves."

"And fishes?" Harry asked.

"That too is a category in itself, yes, Harry." He answered. "As are birds, for example."

"And they all have their own exceptions?" Harry asked, a horrified look on his face.

"Yes, they all have their own exceptions." He answered with a smirk. "You actually will have to _learn_ all of them, because to transfigure a magical creature into another one, we first should know the exact way their magic work. In your fifth year you will learn transfiguring different kind of magic, but the transfiguration of one living being into another one, is one of the most difficult transfiguration studies that are existent. And one of the most dangerous too."

"But why is it done then?" Harry asked. "I mean, why would one need a rat being transfigured into a mouse in the first place?"

"Because it is important to know how it is done if you decide becoming an animagus." He answered. "Just for example."

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"Hey, do you think You-Know-Who got the flowers Harry sent him yesterday?" Neville asked and Severus lifted his eyebrow and looked over at them. So – they were about to continue the game they had started the day before, and he huffed. Sending flowers to the Dark Lord, and pink flowers no less. He only could imagine the madman's face at that.

"Dunno." Draco answered, a thoughtful expression on his face and he actually had to admit – he was proud of the boy that he so easily started partaking in jokes about the Dark Lord. He however definitely should never do so in front of his father and he would have to talk to his godson – and his other children, especially his Slytherins – the moment they got out of here.

He didn't mind them making fun of the Dark Lord. It was proof to him that there were some more of his Slytherin who would _not_ follow this path, but they would have to be careful the moment they were out of here – _if_ they got our of here, that was, he again thought, realizing that lately there were a lot of _'ifs'_ concerning their future, even if all those ifs were the same ones – namely if they got out of here alive. But _if_ they did, then there were some students in Slytherin who would not take this lightly, and he knew this. A lot of them didn't want to follow their parents or the Dark Lord, more than most people thought, but _some_ did and they would have to be careful.

"What do you think he did today?" The boy then asked.

"Dunno." Theodore answered. "Depends on – if he got the flowers or not, I guess."

"Well, if he got them, then I guess he had a heart attack." Hermione mused.

"Does he even have a heart?" Theodore muttered under his breath.

"I can assure you, Theodore, the Dark Lord _does_ have a heart." The Potions Master couldn't help drawling at the boy's muttered question. "Never mind how heartless he might act, as it is a simple organ that does not allow him any emotions. Our emotions are not controlled by our hearts, but by our brains."

"Oh – alright." Theodore smirked. "In this case – I guess he got a heart attack then."

"And what if not?" Neville asked. "I mean, what if he didn't get the flowers? Maybe one of the Death Eaters kept them?"

"Yes, because they do love pink flowers so much." Draco drawled. "Just imagine my father sitting at the desk in his study, making goo-goo eyes at pink flowers and drooling over them."

For a moment all of them snorted at the idea, but then Neville grew serious and narrowed his eyes at the blond boy.

"Draco?" He asked, and his voice sounded worried.

"What?" Draco asked back, and it seemed he already knew what the other boy wanted to say.

"Well, it … it's your father, Draco." Neville said and Severus couldn't help making a mental note to give him points later for his attempts to comfort Draco, but for now he refused to interrupt their discussion, knowing that it would be important – in one way or another at least – and knowing that maybe it would end in either a tantrum, in a panic attack or in … well, anything could happen right now. "I mean, you don't have to …"

"I don't have to what, Neville?" Draco asked, his voice angry. "I know that! But do you think that I'm so happy that it most likely was _my father_ that not only was present at the attack that caused this situation here but that most likely he even has been _leading_ the attack? Do you think I'm happy that all of you, all of us, will die because of _my father_? Because he had a stupid idea, whatever idea it had been in the first place? Do you think I'm happy that he didn't care about me _enough_ to keep from attacking the school I attend? Do you … I hate it! And I hate _him_!"

"It isn't your fault." Neville quietly answered as if he had heard the words Draco had not spoken.

"I know." Draco sighed, calmer now. "And nevertheless it was my father. I know that it was him!"

"You are not your father, Draco." Neville said, just as quietly as he had spoken before, but Severus heard his words nevertheless and his eyes automatically wandered to the mattress Harry lay at, sleeping. As it seemed, Neville had more brain than he, Severus had, or he would have seen long ago that Harry was not James. It had taken Neville just two weeks after all, noticing that Draco was not Lucius.

"Most fortunately I'm not!" Draco growled. "But as it is my father – I'm allowed to make fun of him, at least here where he can't hear it." He then added with a shudder and he knew exactly what Draco was thinking. If Lucius heard him, he would beat him to death without hesitation. "However, if the Dark Lord didn't get the flowers – because my father is sitting in his study and drooling over them – with goo-goo eyes – then maybe he fell off his broom and broke his neck."

"Yes – or he heard about how Harry caught the snitch in his first year, catching it with his mouth." Ronald said, the word broom having been the key word. In Ronald Weasley's eyes broom was associated with Quidditch, and Quidditch always was a subject the boy was happy speaking about.

"Nearly swallowing it, you mean, Weasley." Draco answered, still refusing to use the other boy's given name, even if he meanwhile kept himself from calling him Weasel.

"Well, it was a spectacular move after all, you have to admit that." Ronald said and Draco huffed at him.

"So, what about Harry's first catch and the Dark Lord, Weasley?" The boy then asked.

"I think, maybe he tried to do it as well." Ronald mused. "But instead of just catching it with his mouth and _nearly_ swallowing it, he actually did and he choked to death at the snitch. End of the story."

"What a great death!" Draco shook his head.

"Whoas a grea'death?" Harry asked, opening his eyes tiredly and looking over at them.

He had sent Harry to bed after nearly two hours of discussing the transfiguration chapter he had read. The boy barely had been able to keep his eyes open any longer and he had started rubbing them with his fists, and the way he had kept them half opened, squinting his eyes, had told him that they had started burning – and so he had sent him to bed, had told him to at least close his eyes for a while if he was unable to sleep.

But he _had_ fallen asleep, rather soon, actually, and he had slept for more than an hour, until those imbeciles had started discussing what the Dark Lord might be up to right now and how he could have died.

"We just decided that You-Know-Who died today by trying to catch the snitch with his mouth like you did and swallowing it, choking to death by it." Neville answered Harry's question.

"Didn'know he's playin' Widdish." Harry answered, his words still sluggish while sitting up at the mattress and stretching his limbs.

"Oh, he did." Ronald answered. "And then he heard from your catch in our first year and wanted to try it."

"Couldn' he have heard from my catch in second year?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice and Severus couldn't help smirking at the thought that the child seemed to have learned that from _him_. What however worried him was the way Harry again screwed his eyes after rubbing them. "The one with the bludger Dobby had hexed and that broke my arm? It could have hit his head." Well, at least the boy's speech went back to normal. He nevertheless kept his eyes narrowed on his son.

"Yeah." Ronald grinned. "And then having Lockhart removing all his bones in his head."

"Lockhart's at St. Mungos." Neville said and for a moment he fixed his narrowed his eyes at _that_ boy. He knew how it was that Neville knew about Lockhart being at St. Mungos, knew that the boy's parents were there and that he visited them during all of his holidays.

"That's gross." Draco said, shuddering. "Without his bones his head would be a slippery mess."

"Isn' it that already?" Harry asked. "However, he'd be dead by then anyway."

"You think we could carry this out?" Ronald asked towards Harry who actually thought about it, but then the boy shook his head.

"No." He said. "First uncle Voldie doesn't play Quidditch, second, if he did, he surely would have cast a shield that would protect him from bludgers and third, even if he were hit, he might survive it and Neville said Lockhart is at St. Mungos. So – no, we need another plan. Isn't there anything in the history textbooks, Hermione?" Harry then asked. "Anything that could help us with uncle Voldie?"

"If you had paid any attention in history, then you would know the answer yourself, Harry." Hermione said, huffing.

"Impossible." Harry answered. "I just can't stay awake in Binn's class. He's doing nothing than rattling down lists of names and dates, and I never can remember all those names and dates. And just about those goblin wars since first year! And the names of those goblins are all so similar, I always mix them up somehow. So – how could anyone stay awake in his class?"

"Hermione manages." Ronald groaned.

"Hermione would manage staying awake for three weeks if he had a teacher willing doing the same to entertain her with learning." Harry groaned back while running his sleeve over his eyes before squinting them again.

"Come here, Harry." Severus finally called the boy over to his desk where he had better light as they were saving candles by now just as well as wood, potions – and none existent food. They had dreamless sleep left for today only and he had no more ingredients left to brew another batch. They had nutrient potions for today and tomorrow and then this too would be gone. They had no pain reliever left and no calming draught, and the improvised relaxing draught he had brewed was less effective than the original one had been.

No, their situation didn't look too good, he had to admit.

The teen did as he was told and came over to him, his feet dragging over the floor and his shoulders slumped, his arms hanging by his side weakly. Yes, the boy still was tired, despite sleeping for over an hour, as were they all. Sitting straight, standing tall – none of them did so anymore, none of them had the energy left for doing so anymore, and he had to admit that even _he_ felt the tiredness, was rather leaning in his chair lazily, than sitting straight as he normally would.

When Harry had approached him he however got off his chair and stood, grabbed the startled teen's chin and turned his face towards the candle.

"I won't hurt you, Harry." He quietly reassured, like he so often did, upon the startled and frightened look that had appeared in the suddenly large eyes when he had grabbed the boy's chin. "I just want to have a closer look at your eyes. Do they still hurt?"

"They're burning." His son answered.

"They are red." Severus commented after turning the boy's head this way and that way. He knew the reason. They all needed light, and they needed sunlight, not the dim light of one or two candles. They needed sunlight, they needed fresh air, they needed warmth, they needed restful sleep, and most importantly, they needed food. All things they simply didn't have.

"I do not want you rubbing at them too often, Harry." He sighed. "And I want you washing your hands before you go to your eyes with them at all, never mind how much they are burning or itching, and that goes for all of you. For now I once more will apply some drops of the potion that will calm your eyes, but it won't work if you go to your eyes with dirty hands. I know that it isn't easy right now to keep everything clean, but this is important. We have at least enough water and you have to use it and wash your hands at a regular basis, not just while you shower. None of us can afford getting any infections while we are as weak _as_ we are."

"Ok." Harry said, as did the other children.

"Alright." Again Severus sighed, giving his attention back to Harry alone. "During your summer holidays, how often have you been allowed outside, Harry?" He then asked, already knowing the answer, or rather the lack thereof, noticing the boy looking sheepishly at the others without giving an answer before averting his eyes and looking at his shoes, just like he had thought.

"We have already been over this, Harry." He said. "I do know how important privacy is, but here – we are beyond this here. We all have to know each other's weaknesses and strengths. We have to know so that we understand and act accordingly without hurting each other. We all are dependent on each other, even I. All of you have missed sunlight since two weeks and all of you have been in the dim light of only one or two candles during nearly two weeks now as we have to save the candles that are available to us. You however, Harry, you have had less food and less sleep but more physical strain and injury than have had the others, even Theodore, and therefore I ask you again – knowing that none of the others will judge you upon what your relatives did, they are beyond that, all of them – how often have you been allowed outside during your summer holidays?"

"Uhm … well …" The boy made, again averting his eyes and looking at his trainers that followed the patterns of the stony floor. "Haven't been …" He then murmured so quietly he barely could hear him. "I've done my chores and then I've been in my … well … y'know … my room."

"Yes, I do know." He growled, darkly enough so most of the other teenagers looked at him just as startled as did Harry. Yes, he did know. The boy had been locked in his cupboard whenever he had not been out of it to do the cooking and the cleaning – or to get a beating. And normally a cupboard didn't have a window – in other words, the boy had _not_ had too much sunlight during his summer holidays as well, and tiredly he ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. It might not seem as a big deal, having not have had much sunlight for a while, even for two months, but in their situation right now _everything_ was a big deal, the smallest things could lessen their chances of survival – especially in Harry's situation.

"You didn' wash your hands before going to y'r eyes with 'em." The boy mumbled, most likely risking his, Severus', wrath to get him off the subject by accusing him of something he had warned them _not_ to do just minutes before.

"No, I have not." He said, not doing the child the favour of getting angry – and therefore off the subject. "But how in Merlin's name am I supposed to keep you alive, while yet your relatives have done such a good job in getting you killed? They actually have managed to do what the Dark Lord has not been able to."

"Only 'cause he hasn't gotten his hands on me yet." Harry answered, still mumbling.

"And I intend keeping it that way." Severus growled. "I cannot do anything else for your eyes than applying the potion to them. That what you, what _all_ of you, need most, I cannot give you."

"'S not your fault." Harry shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at him but his shoes.

He didn't comment on that however. Instead he sighed and released the boy's wrists he had grabbed at one point or another during the conversation, without even knowing when exactly he had gripped them.

"While being at your mattresses or sitting at the table, I want you to close your eyes for a few minutes every now and then." He said. "And that goes for all of you just as well. If anyone's eyes start burning or itching too, I want you to tell me so I can apply the potion to calm your eyes as well."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"I simply refuse to believe that they are dead." He said, his dark eyes hard and unbending on the headmaster. "Severus is too intelligent than letting them die after just two weeks. He will have them drinking enough water, sleeping a lot and he will have them calm."

"We all refuse that and we all will continue our attempts in getting into the dungeons but we had to hold that ceremony. The ministry demanded it. However, we know that at least Harry has died." Albus said, his voice grave. "And our matron said that Mr. Nott, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Davis and Miss Patil might have died meanwhile as well, they too never had a chance of surviving too long. Poppy also said, the moment one of them died, the others would lose their hope, they will panic, and it only will lead for their entire situation to worsen."

"And yet – I am sure that Severus will manage one way or another." The stranger growled darkly, reminding the headmaster at his missing teacher. "I know that it is not an easy situation. I know that it is a _horrible_ situation in the first place, but Severus has been in horrible situations before and if anyone manages to not only stay alive but keep some of the children alive with him, then it will be Severus Snape."

"I don't ask you to lose your faith in Severus, Mr. Hrothgar." Albus said. "I only ask you to take over – either until he is back with us, or … in case that … Merlin! I'm still not even able to say it."

"Neither am I, Professor." Hereweald softly said. "I am not even able to think of it."

There was a pause for a few minutes, both men thinking silently, Albus Dumbledore staring ahead of him and Hereweald Hrothgar staring out of the window into the stormy night.

"You have promised them, Mr. Hrothgar." Albus Dumbledore then quietly said.

"Yes, I have." Hereweald answered, his eyes back on the headmaster, piercing the old man with his gaze. "But I have not meant becoming a teacher or a head of house. This is Severus' job and I refuse to take this from him as he has been the head of Slytherin with heart and soul. Remember my correct words, professor – _'if you ever need someone willing to continue Severus Snape's work, then you will have to find me'_. If those children need help with their Death Eater parents, then they will have to find me. If those children need help with their abusive parents, then they will have to find me, but I refuse to take over Severus' job as a teacher and head of house."

"I have hoped you would, Mr. Hrothgar, but I can understand your refusal." Albus said with a heavy sigh. "Wouldn't it have been for the ministry, then I would not have held this remembrance vigil yesterday. It was good for all those people to say what they have thought and it was good for all those people to hear what was said – but it was as if giving up on them."

"That it was." Hereweald Hrothgar admitted. "And yet – I refuse to give up on them, I refuse to believe that hey are dead."

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_showers, last wills and candles  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	23. showers, last wills and candles

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"I have hoped you would, Mr. Hrothgar, but I can understand your refusal." Albus said with a heavy sigh. "Wouldn't it have been for the ministry, then I would not have held this remembrance vigil yesterday. It was good for all those people to say what they have thought and it was good for all those people to hear what was said – but it was as if giving up on them."_

_"That it was." Hereweald Hrothgar admitted. "And yet – I refuse to believe that hey are dead."_

**Chapter twenty-three**

**Day ****seventeen – Wednesday****, eighteenth of September**

**Showers, last wills and candles ... **

"Harry?" Severus asked, frowning, the moment he woke, noticing that the spot beside him was abandoned and cold. How in Merlin's name had the boy managed to get off their – _'bed'_ without waking him? And what was the boy up to anyway?

"Dad?" Came said boy's answer from where the table stood in the middle of the classroom, near their – makeshift camp – and he got up, stretching his limbs before he walked over to his son, wondering how he had gotten used so quickly to the term 'dad'.

"What are you doing up, son?" He asked, frowning, sitting down beside the boy that clearly had scribbled on a parchment for a long time. "It is not even morning yet."

"I … well … I just …" The boy stammered before sighing and averting his eyes, looking down at the parchment he had been writing on, murmuring an apology and frowning Severus took the parchment from beneath the boy's hands, ignoring the startled and horrified look on the Harry's face.

_'Harry Snape's last will'_ he read, and he sighed.

He wasn't sure about how he should feel about the child writing down his last will. On one hand – he did not like the fact that Harry made a last will in the first place, that it even might be necessary. But on the other hand – the boy only tried to prepare himself, to his best abilities, what even was his right, and he sighed again, slowly shoving the parchment back towards the child.

"You have never had an adult to go to when you had a problem and so you had no other chance than learning to solve all your problems alone." He quietly said, his voice sad. "This parchment is proof of that. You have learnt to prepare for whatever lies before you to the best of your ability alone and you try to think of everything that could be necessary – even concerning your own death … never mind when it will come in the end. The fact that you fear I would not be pleased about you writing down your last will – it is proof of how unsure you about yourself and your actions due to the fact that you never had an adult who taught you what would be appropriate behaviour and what not. And while I am indeed not pleased about the fact that such is even necessary in the first place, I am not angry with you for writing this parchment. I have done so myself, writing a last will." He said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder for comfort. "If it provides you with comfort, you may place it on my desk where it will not get lost, where it will be found. I promise, I will not read it without your consent."

"So … so you're not angry with me?" The boy asked, unsureness still in his voice despite his earlier assurance that he wasn't angry.

"About writing this parchment in the first place?" He asked, a hint of amusement on his face. "No, I am not, Harry. I am however not pleased about the fact that you wrote this during the night. You do need your sleep and you do need sleep desperately even."

"But I couldn't sleep." The boy quietly said. "I woke in the middle of the night, and I felt so restless. I just _had_ to get up and start on this."

"Why didn't you wake me, child?" Severus asked. "I could have provided you with at least company if with nothing else."

"Because … well … I didn't …"

"You didn't think that I would allow you writing your last will, did you?"

The teen shaking his head made him sigh again.

"And neither am I pleased about you writing this without at least one candle by your side." He then said. "Your eyes are not well to begin with and you only are making it worse while writing in the dark."

"But we need to save the candles." The boy said, looking up at him desperately, the graveness of the situation written on his drawn face. "And there's the fire that gives a bit of light."

"The fire still does not provide you with enough light for writing. Why didn't you just take the candle from my desk, child?" The Potions Master asked sadly.

"The … your … but …" Harry stammered and again he couldn't keep the amusement from his face – even if this amusement was mixed with worry and concern. "I couldn't … I couldn't just take the candle from your desk!"

"It is not glued to my desk, you know? However, then why did you not write this parchment on my desk instead?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow at the shocked face of his son.

"At your … but … no!" The child nearly screamed by now. "I couldn't just sit at your desk to … it's your desk!"

"So what?" Severus asked, his voice too now filled with amusement. "If I manage lowering myself to sitting at the table together with all of you imbeciles, then I am sure that you can lower yourself to sitting at my desk."

Well, the shocked, the flabbergasted, the absolutely horror-stricken face of the boy was enough to nearly make him laugh, but the seriousness of the situation caught up with him rather soon.

"It at least would provide you with enough light and next time you plan on writing anything, I ask you to do just this." He seriously said.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had ordered Harry back to bed and he had taken the parchment the boy had been writing and had placed it on his desk, together with his notes he had made during the past days. Albus would find it there and he knew that the old wizard would regard the boy's last wishes, whatever they were. He had promised he would not read it, and so he hadn't.

Sighing he ran his hand over his face.

Merlin, he was tired!

But he also knew that going back to sleep wouldn't be possible. He had laid down behind Harry when he had sent him back to bed, had wrapped his arms around the thin body of his son like he always did lately, knowing that the boy would fall asleep sooner this way, but he had not been able to sleep himself and so he had gotten up again the moment he had been sure that Harry had fallen asleep in his arms, working his arms carefully from underneath and around the boy without waking him – something he had become rather good at lately.

The other children had woken shortly after and right now they were about to take a shower, one pair at the time like he had demanded a few days earlier.

It had been strange, but none of the children had complained about his order and – even though he had thought they would – none of them had disobeyed him with this. The girls had looked uncomfortable when they had left for the first time, but when they had come back from the shower, they had even joked and soon they were not only in pairs but in a threesome or foursome. As were the boys. The only one still not ready to go to the shower with one of the other boys was Harry, and so he took him to the shower himself.

Both of them had been uncomfortable in the beginning, and the boy still was uncomfortable somewhat, but he never had really complained.

**Flashback**

_All the other students were back from the shower meanwhile and still Harry had made no __move to go to the bathroom himself and the Potions Master sighed at the green eyes that were lowered stoically onto the potions text book in front of him without moving, indicating that he wasn't reading at all – most likely hoping to avoid this walk. _

_He himself did not look forward to this either and he had hoped that __Harry would go with one of the other boys. But he had not and so he had no other chance than going with the child. But well – he was his son and so – well, he would manage doing this. It wasn't the first time after all, that he saw a naked teenage body. He was a head of a house on a boarding school after all, so of course he had seen his students without clothing at one point or another during the past thirteen years since he was a teacher at Hogwarts now._

_He noticed the teen holding his breath when he approached __him and the bony shoulders stiffened when he placed his hand on them while the child slowly turned his head up to him, looking at him questioningly, as if he actually had to ask him what he wanted, as if he didn't know the reason of his approach already. _

_"It is your turn to take a shower, Harry." He said, keeping his voice as well as his face as indifferent as possible, knowing that it already was hard enough for the child without any emotions he, Severus, might display at the thought._

_"Oh." The boy made. "Ok, I'll just go." And out of his chair he was, quickly hurrying towards the bathroom, nearly fleeing their current position, and it was clear that he thought he could go alone. _

_Shaking his head he followed the teenager out of the classroom and along the corridor that led to the bathroom, catching up with him the moment Harry tried to close the door after entering the room._

_"Not so fast, young man." He said, stopping the door from going close. "I am sure you know the deal. No showers are to be taken alone and that goes for you as well as for the others."_

_"Uhm … well … you don't have to … I mean, I'll manage …" _

_"Yes, I am sure you will manage the __three parchment essay about obeying my orders which is set not without a reason." He drawled, watching the boy's face going into defeat mode and he entered the bathroom after the teen, closed the door. _

_For a moment the teen made no move to undress and take the shower and the Potions Master kept himself from giving away a sigh._

_"Take off your shirt and come here before you undress completely and take your shower so I can take a look at your back while we are in privacy." He said, just to take some of the awkwardness out of the situation, to get the boy to take the first step and Harry slowly did, definitely stalling for time. _

_He just as slowly came over to him and Severus had to force himself keeping his eyes at the child's pale face instead of looking at the thin and bony chest when Harry came close, knowing that his son only would feel more uncomfortable then, and just when he stood in front of him he gave a curt nod at the boy and placed his hand on the bony shoulder, turned him towards the candle that burned on a small shelf in the corner he stood in, moved out of the dim light so he could inspect the scars that littered the boy's chest and stomach, running his fingertips over them to make his intention clear – namely not gawking at the boy but concentrating onto the scars alone._

_Of course he knew that they had healed meanwhile. Not only had he had a look at them twice since he had applied the healing salve over them twelve days ago, but he also knew that his potions and salves worked the way they should. But at the same time he knew as well that the boy needed time to get used to the situation and to get used to his presence right now, that he needed reassurance right now. And so he took that time to do just this, never mind how pointless it was in the first place._

_Turning the boy with his hand on his shoulder he continued inspecting the scars on his son's back, again running his fingertip over them, again solely to make clear his intention while his anger at the boy's re__latives grew anew at the sight and he gritted his teeth to keep from growling darkly._

_"They look alright." He quietly said. "None of them are infected. Go on and undress and then take your shower. I won't look, I promise. But I want you to address me the moment __you feel the slightest trace of dizziness or weakness or pain. Did I make myself clear?"_

_"Yes, sir." The boy answered and he could hear the relief in his voice. Had he thought that he would have to shower together with him? The boy was fourteen and surely it was not appropriate to take the shower together with the teen. It would do if he was close by and had an eye and ear on the situation. _

_"What have you planned for the day?" He asked while sitting onto the stool that stood in the corner beneath the candle, turning slightly so he could give the boy some sense of privacy while he still had him in the corner of his eyes. _

_"Dunno." The boy answered while getting off his shoes and socks, and he concentrated onto the voice. "I've started chapter seven in the potions book, about the Draught of the Living Death."_

_"Hmm … we would have brewed a lighter variation of this potion during the second term, shortly before the summer holidays." He mused, wondering if they would even brew this potion at all at one time this year. "The actual Draught of Living Death is brewed in your NEWT class during sixth year."_

_"__I wondered _… w_hy couldn't we brew this potion to fall asleep and then simply wait until the headmaster found us?" Harry asked while he leaned out of the shower to place his trousers and shorts which he had undressed in the shower stall onto the floor outside and he even could hear the sigh of relief at the fact that he was hidden from his view. _

_"I see your point of view." He said. "It would be like hibernating and the headmaster could wake us with the counter potion. You however forget that an animal that goes into hibernation is gathering fat reserves before doing so. None of you have done so. It nevertheless __could have been possible, if all of you would have been fit in the first place, but you have not. Neither Theodore nor you would have survived such 'hibernation' in the first place for example and Draco, Theodore, Tracy, and Parvati as well as Lavender would not have survived waking from the Draught of the Living Death as it takes a lot of energy the moment your body has to regain all his functions. Then there is Pansy for example who is allergic to the asphodel in the potion, she wouldn't have been able to take it at all, while Neville is allergic to the sopophorous beans in the potion. He would have died the moment he had swallowed the draught."_

_"Oh." Came Harry's voice from under the shower. "Ok, then that was a stupid idea."_

_"No, it was not a stupid idea, Harry." He said. "It was a very good idea indeed and you have a lot of such good ideas."_

_"Yes, just like the white knight that is still running along the walls in the classroom." The boy growled sarcastically. _

_"So what?" Severus growled back. "It has been an idea that had not worked, but it had been an idea in the first place and every idea is worth a try. It could have worked and the Draught of the Living Death could have worked __just as well. What if you have an idea tomorrow and keep it to yourself just because you think it would be a stupid idea and later you learn that it could have saved the lives of your friends because it would have worked? It was a good idea, but unfortunately one that simply didn't work and you simply have to think of something else, Harry."_

_"I'm too tired to think of much, lately." Harry sighed beneath the running water and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow. If the boy admitted that he was too tired to think of much, then he really must be tired. The boy normally admitted nothing. At least nothing that had to do with anything that could be thought of as weakness._

_The boy's head, appearing out of the shower, green eyes looking around the bathroom and coming to rest on the towel that hung over the bar to the Potions Master's right, out of his reach, made Severus smirk for a moment._

_"Looking for this, Mr. __Snape?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm at the teen's blush, but then he took the towel and reached it over to the boy who reached a wet arm out of the shower to grip the anything else than dry fabric after all the other students already had dried themselves with the towel. He watched the towel disappearing behind the shower wall and a moment later the boy reached out again, placing the offending thing at the floor beside his shorts and trousers before gripping them – and slipping into them while still being in the shower stall._

**End flashback**

Harry had tried to get himself dressed with exposing as less body parts as possible and he had slipped into his shorts and trousers while still being in the shower stall even, although he had again turned slightly, looking at the door instead of into the boy's direction.

It had become somewhat easier over the past three days, but Harry still was somewhat uncomfortable and he always tried to hide himself away as much as possible. It was a thought that didn't leave his mind and he wondered if there might be more to it than simple shyness. Not only should the boy have gotten used to his presence in the shower since four days now, but the fact that he still slipped out of – or into – his trousers while being in the shower stall, and the way he sometimes looked at him, not only uncomfortable but actually scared, it made him, Severus, wondering if there might be more to the abuse those monsters had bestowed upon the boy.

If someone starved a child like the Dursleys had done – for years, if they locked a child into a cupboard – for days on end, and if someone beat a child like they had done – would it be so absurd to think that maybe – _just maybe_ – they could have abused said child sexually as well?

He always talked to the boy when he was in the shower where he couldn't see him, trying to decipher the boy's condition by listening to his voice when he answered, and aside from the strain of simply feeling uncomfortable, he always could hear fear in the boy's voice as well. He had closed his eyes at one point when they had talked with the boy in his office, concentrating on the child's voice alone then, but back then he had _not_ heard the same fear that he always heard in the shower when the boy was naked. And therefore he knew that Harry feared something might happen there or then.

And the fact that Harry did not address him with his fears, that he _had_ them even – told him enough, namely that not only something _might_ have happened when being with his relatives, but also that the child still did not trust him, not completely at least.

He looked down at the boy that just now started to wake and with a sigh he sat down beside him, waiting for him to wake fully, still thinking. The boy did not hold the same fears when he touched him while he was dressed, not even when he pulled him close and embraced him, and not even when he lay behind him on the mattresses, holding him in his arms until the boy fell asleep – as long as he was clothed.

"G'morn." The boy made and he looked down at him again, his eyebrow lifted.

"Morning …" He commented dryly. "It has to be around eleven meanwhile. Did you at least sleep better than you have last night?" He then asked, his sarcasm changing into worry.

"Yes." The boy answered, running his hand over his face and yawning. "The noise all those imbeciles made maybe helped me sleeping." He smirked sheepishly and the Potions Master couldn't help huffing.

"Imbeciles, indeed." He growled. "Including yourself, Mr. Snape. Get up and ready for the shower, you imbecile."

Of course at the mentioning of the shower the boy's face fell and he was sorry for this, but … well, it simply was this way, he couldn't change it, never mind how much he wished he could, and so he led the boy out of the classroom and along the corridor to get this over with as quickly as possible so Harry would be able to relax for the rest of the day.

Harry, who slowly walked in front of him, stumbled and the unexpected movement got him out of his thoughts again. He barely had time to reach out and to take a hold on the boy's falling form, on his upper arm to prevent him from crashing face first into the stony floor and a moment later he heard a sickening scream and quickly lowered the boy to the floor, his hand coming to rest on the whimpering child's back while Harry cradled the arm he had gripped to keep him from falling.

"Harry?" He quietly asked, rubbing calming circles over the teen's back, but he got no answer aside from a weak headshake that most likely was meant to tell him that it was nothing.

"Harry." He said when it was clear that he wouldn't get another answer. "Let me see your arm."

But again there only was a headshake, accompanied by a weak "'s ok" in a trembling voice.

"Harry!" He growled, cursing himself. "Let me see your arm. Right now!" Damn! He should have been more careful. He should have had a better eye on the boy, wasn't that the reason he accompanied him to the shower in the first place? And he should have been more careful when he had gripped his arm. The boy was so thin, his arms sticks covered with skin only. Of course a tight grip on them would hurt him, maybe he even had broken the fragile limb by gripping it as tight as he had.

"'s ok." The blasted brat repeated. "Really."

"It is not '_ok_', Harry." He sighed, reaching out and opening the buttons of the teen's shirt, ignoring the startled look on the pale face that never left him and his hand, while he gently pulled the arm that seemed hurt out of the sleeve. Gently he touched the fragile upper arm, searching for broken bones, but there was none, only a bruise already forming where he had gripped the arm to keep Harry from falling, and he sighed.

"I apologize." He quietly said. "I should have been more careful when I gripped your arm. I did not want to hurt you."

"What?" Harry asked, looking up at him with eyes that were startling wide, green orbs blinking at him. "No!" The boy then shook his head, frantically. "No! 'ts not your fault! Its mine! I stumbled! I didn't mean to …"

"Why don't we get you into the shower, Harry, so we get this over with and then I can apply a bruise salve over your arm." He tiredly said, not having enough energy left right now to discuss with the boy about who was at fault and who was not before he had the shower. A fact that frightened him actually. He never had allowed one of his abused students to blame themselves for anything if it wasn't appropriate, never mind if it had to do with the abuse or anything else. And he always had fought teeth and nails until those children had understood that it really had not been their fault. That he felt too tired to do so right now – it frightened him and he gave himself a figurative kick in his backside.

"And no, it is not – _absolutely not_ – your fault, Mr. Snape!" He then growled. He would not allow Harry to take the blame for this so easily. "I did not intend to hurt you, but I could have been more careful. I just wanted to prevent you from falling. And no, it neither is your fault that you stumbled in the first place. You are not the first one of us who started stumbling. And now shut up and go inside. Take your shower."

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He had watched the boy close and he had listened close while Harry had been under the shower. Harry definitely had taken longer for this today than he had the days before, his movements slower and sluggish, and after he had slipped into his trousers again and had left the shower, he had leaned against the wall for a moment, his eyes closed.

"Come here, child." Severus said, taking Harry by his upper arm, gentler this time, careful to not hurt him again, and he led him to the stool he had been sitting at just a moment ago. "Are you just tired, Harry, or do you feel dizzy?" He then asked, trying to read the thin and drawn face. It was pale, the skin stretching over bones and the eyes holding dark circles that got larger and darker with each day that passed.

"Both." The boy sighed, his shoulders slumped and again his eyes closed.

Severus gritted his teeth and closed his eyes himself for a moment. He couldn't do anything, neither against Harry being tired, nor against the dizziness. He simply couldn't do anything. He could give him a nutrient potion, yes, and he could give him a relaxing potion as well, yes, but that was all he could do and it wouldn't be enough, and he knew that. The boy needed food and real sleep and sunlight. He needed fresh air and he needed being out of here. He needed a warm bath and he needed sitting in a classroom during a real, a regular class, not locked in one in the dungeon classrooms, trying to learn something out of the need to distract himself from fear and pain and weakness. He needed sitting in the great hall and he needed joking with his friends, with all the other students. He needed …

"Let me help you." He said, taking the teen's worn shirt from the hook where he had hung it up earlier and he slipped one arm into the sleeve, then the next arm, and finally he started buttoning the shirt. The boy finally seemed to come out of his daze and he opened his eyes, straightened, and shaking his head he took over in buttoning his shirt before he slipped into his socks and shoes.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered, his head down. "I didn't mean to be so …"

"Do not say it, Mr. Snape, except you wish to get into detention with me, writing a three feet essay about admitting to our weaknesses while we are down here. I thought we had been over this two weeks ago already."

Harry said nothing to this, but he sighed in defeat. What could he have said? Snape wouldn't understand anyway. If his uncle would have found him like this, he would have found himself into more trouble than what he would have been able to handle. Because it was his fault, never mind what Snape said, it just was his fault. He wasn't a small child anymore, he wasn't a toddler. He was fourteen and it was expected of him to be stronger than this.

And somehow he simply couldn't understand the Potions Master's worry and gentle words. How could Snape even apologize? The man had kept him from crushing face first into the stony floor where he would have gained himself at least a bloody nose if not more. What about a few bruises? Snape only had tried to … Merlin! His father, for Merlin's sake! Severus Snape, his father, had only tried to keep him from falling and it wasn't the man's fault that he was so damn weak and that his limbs were nothing more than thin sticks!

And why couldn't he still think of Snape as his father? Hadn't he done anything possible to prove to him that he meant it? Hadn't he tried to help him wherever he could? Hadn't he done anything to comfort him? And hadn't he told him, reassured him, over and over again that he was his father? That he wouldn't abandon him? That he wouldn't send him back to the Dursleys? That he would take him to his manor and that he would …

His heart started racing from one moment to the other when he again felt himself falling, when he again felt Snape's hand gripping his upper arm, but this time it didn't hurt as much as it had before.

What was it with him today?

Wasn't he able to put one foot in front of the other today without falling over them?

How pathetic! How weak! How stupid!

Again the boy stumbled, but this time Severus was prepared and he simply tightened his grip on the child's upper arm, reached out with his other hand to steady him on his shoulder until Harry had regained his footing and without a comment he continued leading him into his office where he pushed him onto one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Stay there." He said, his voice calmer than he actually felt. "I will be back momentarily." And with those words he went into his laboratory and got the bruise salve, the relaxing potion and the nutrient potion. He of course was not upset about Harry's weakness, he was Severus Snape, and Severus Snape simply got not upset about one of his students getting weak, it was just as simple as that – yet, he was upset, and he knew it. First, it was not a simple student, it was one of his children! It was his son even! And second, he had notice how the teen had gotten weaker and weaker by the days that had passed! And third – well, third was simply third! And third was simply anything! The entire situation, the fact that this boy had wormed his way into his heart, the fact that Harry would die, the fact that …

Growling at himself he took the required potions and the salve and went back into his office.

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The salve had been applied to the bruise on Harry's upper arm quickly, and the boy had taken both potions, the relaxing potion and the nutrient potion without a fuss, and then he had led him back into the classroom where he had gone to the mattresses immediately, and a moment later the teen had been asleep, had slept for another two hours, a sign of how tired and exhausted he was.

And right now he was sitting tiredly at the table together with Neville, Blaise, Hermione and Gregory and Vincent while the others were having a late afternoon nap.

They all did, sleeping for an hour during the day, some for two, and mostly they did so between about two and three or four in the afternoon. After that they were awake until about eight or nine in the evening and then slept through the night until the next morning.

It was hard to tell the correct time as here, in the dungeons, they had no windows and they were unable to cast a simple tempus, but he could make a rough guess of the time at the candles they used, knowing that the candles he had stored in his classroom and office burned for twelve hours each.

So, as he soon had noticed how important it was to the children to have at least a small sense of the time, he had started judging time this way, he had ensured that he had the first candle started at roughly nine in the morning. Twelve hours and one candle later, it had been nine in the evening, just before they went to bed so the next candle would burn throughout the night and they wouldn't wake in utter darkness. The next candle he had lightened had been at nine in the morning again and so on. So – yes, he was fairly sure that it was between about two and three or four in the afternoon they all took a nap normally.

He also had started to always have one unused candle near the one burning at his desk as a scale unit, and if it the burning candle on his desk was burnt down halfway, then he knew that six hours had passed. Those candles on his desk he kept burning day and night. In the beginning they had three or four candles burning throughout the day, but he soon had started to only light one another candle during the day, placing it at their 'common table'.

Again his eyes wandered towards the table Harry and some of the other teenagers were sitting at. They all were sitting there tiredly, their arms laying on the table and Harry and Blaise had their heads laying upon their arms. They all were tired and even Neville, Gregory and Vincent who always had been rather strong, were barely more than walking sticks now. All their faces were pale, and they all had no energy left – but the weak breathing his son displayed worried him greatly.

He had heard the boy's lungs wheezing again after he had stumbled before the shower. He had heard his lungs wheezing during the shower and he had heard his lungs wheezing during their way to his office. He even had heard his lungs wheezing while the teen had slept afterwards. And still he could see the heavy rise and fall of the boy's shoulders, and he knew that he had trouble breathing.

He knew that Harry had those troubles breathing from time to time since the potion that had exploded twelve days ago, and he knew that maybe the boy's troubles with his eyes were from that too, but he still didn't know what he could do against it. He had given him the healing potion that had taken care of his lungs for three days, longer than necessary, and he had applied drops of the potion that had taken care of his eyes for nearly a week, longer than it would have been necessary just as well – just to be sure. But still … the boy's eyes seemed to get worse just as did his lungs and just as did his entire condition in general.

"What do you think he's doing today?" Neville asked after some time of silence and they all knew whom he meant.

"Dunno." Harry replied, taking a small sip of the water he had in front of him. He hadn't gotten ill again upon drinking, but that most likely was, because he had done as Severus had told him three days before and took very, very small sips of the water. "Mione?"

"Well, I think he's in the library doing research." The girl mused. "He's trying to find a spell or something that keeps him from dying after he hadn't gotten his hands on the philosopher's stone during our first year."

"Figures." Gregory said. "I thought that you'd pick a library."

"But …" Vincent urged, looking questioningly at Hermione, urging her to continue.

"But what?" The girl asked and even he, Severus, couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"There has to be a but, Hermione." Vincent shook his head. "Otherwise it can't be a story."

"Well." The girl sighed, and he could see that she rather would like to sleep instead of sitting here and he wondered why she didn't do just this. "Well, I guess the spell he'd found backfired at himself."

"Wouldn't be the first time, after all." Harry murmured, more into his arms than towards the others. "He didn't pay too much attention during school, I guess."

"Maybe." Blaise said, looking thoughtfully before turning towards Hermione. "So, what then?" He asked the girl to continue. "What happened then?"

"Well, I guess he used a spell that would keep his _mind_ alive as I guess no one can keep a _body_ alive if it dies." The girl answered, not knowing how close she was to the truth. "And as the spell backfired, his mind has now left his body."

"And where is it now?" Gregory asked, furrowing his brows.

"In a stuffed teddy bear." Harry mumbled with a grin on his face. "In a pink teddy bear, one with yellow ears and a yellow bobble."

"Oww! The poor kid whose teddy bear that is." Blaise grimaced and the Potions Master couldn't help shaking his head at their stupid ideas.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be so bad." Vincent mused, his face a mask of concentration. "Just imagine, the baby drooling all over him, and then grabbing his ear while hitting him at the bars of his crib."

"Or trying to feed him and smearing baby food all over his face." Gregory smiled.

"I knew you'd chose something related to food." Hermione smirked, getting the boy back for his library-comment a few minutes before.

"Yes, if we just got an idea that worked." Blaise sighed and Harry nodded at him.

"We'll think of something." The boy murmured, closing his eyes for a few moments before forcing himself upright, and never mind what exactly it was the boy had on his mind – he didn't really like the look on his son's face.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_this is not a request - it is an order  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	24. this is not a request - it is an order

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"I knew you'd chose something related to food." Hermione smirked, getting the boy back for his library-comment a few minutes before._

_"Yes, if we just got an idea that worked." Blaise sighed and Harry nodded at him. _

_"We'll think of something." The boy murmured, closing his eyes for a few moments before forcing himself upright, and never mind what exactly it was the boy had on his mind – he didn't really like the look on his son's face._

**Chapter twenty-four**

**Day ****eighteen – Thursday****, nineteenth of September**

**This is not a request – it is an order!**

Severus again frowned at his son – and his new studiousness.

Yesterday afternoon Harry had asked for his permission to take his potions index, and then he had burrowed his nose in this particular book that contained nothing besides of registers over registers of potions, their effects, their ingredients and how to brew them. The boy even had taken the book with him to the mattresses and he had fallen asleep with the book in his lap. And today – he again sat at their 'common table', but not listening to the other's conversations, but to read the book.

And Harry was nearly through already, he noticed. He had watched the teen, and he had noticed that he only had skimmed through some pages while he had read others carefully – something that made clear – the boy was searching for something. Of course he had asked him _what exactly_ he was searching for, he was a Potions Master after all and whatever Harry was searching for, he most probably would be able to give him the answer, he knew this particular index by heart after all.

But Harry only had frowned at him, and he had told him that he didn't really _know_ what he was searching for – what had caused him, Severus, to frown in return.

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Harry was getting more and more frustrated.

There simply was _nothing_ in this bloody book that would help him. What was this book good for, if he didn't find what he was searching for within it? It was an index of all known potions after all. There should be _something_ inside that would help him!

Well, most likely he wouldn't have the chance to go through his plan anyway, never mind if he found what he was searching for or not, but alone the thought of searching for something that might destroy Voldemort, it was a good thought. At least it kept his mind off his other troubles. Namely being hungry, and namely being tired. And weak.

Sighing he turned the page.

He had written down three potions by now, but even if he had written them down – he knew that they wouldn't work anyway and he knew that he only had done so, so that he had at least _something_, so that he felt a _bit_ better.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach and Harry wasn't able to keep the small whimper from escaping, wrapped his arms around his stomach for a bit of comfort while he tried to ignore the pain yet again. It always gnawed at his stomach anyway, so there was no reason to fret. And it wasn't as if it were like with the Dursleys. Nothing could be done about this situation here and no one was at fault for his hunger this time after all. It wasn't as if he were locked in his cupboard by the Dursleys without food for days and days.

The worst part of this all was, how much Snape, Severus, his father, had changed.

He knew the Potions Master since three years now after all, and he knew that Severus – again he couldn't help shaking his head at the thought that Snape really had given them permission to call him by his given name – however, he knew that Severus was a very proud man, a man that always, never mind in what kind of situation, displayed indifference and dignity, a man that always stood tall and straight, even refusing to sit down during classes. Merlin, he even had never seen him sitting down in Dumbledore's office either, or during any other sort of discussion, talk, whatever.

He only – and _really_ only – had ever seen him sitting when being in the great hall for meals, or during detentions when he was sitting behind his desk, grading essays.

For a moment he couldn't help giggling at the thought of the Potions Master standing behind the staff table during meals, eating while standing. Of course the man was sitting in the great hall during meals!

He however got serious rather quickly, a frown of worry appearing on his face.

He had seen how Severus was getting weaker, just like all of them, but it was worse with Severus, because he now could see some things on that man he never before had seen, and which frightened him. He could see how Severus had lost his ability to stand tall and straight. His shoulders nowadays were rather bent and his voice had lost its bitter tone as well. Even his eyes didn't hold the fiery determination and glare they always had held and his words had lost their coldness and harshness.

Not to mention that he had become bony and pale. Well, yes – Snape always had been pale and skinny, but he always had known that behind that man's skinniness was a lot of strength. Snape had caught him in the middle of the night once, wandering the halls when he hadn't been able to sleep, and he had grabbed his upper arm then when he had taken a step back from the man. And back then, he had been sure that he had broken his arm. So – yes, he knew that Snape always had been strong, never mind how skinny he had looked. And he also knew that the Potions Master had been a very quick man.

How often had he prevented them all from throwing something into their cauldrons? Sometimes it had been as if he was at the front of the classroom at one moment, and then in the back of the classroom, gripping a student's wrist – more than once his, Harry's – in a painfully tight grip at the next moment?

But his grip had loosened his harsh tightness. Severus' fingers seemed to be much weaker nowadays.

Not that he wasn't glad that the grip the man had on his upper arm yesterday hadn't hurt as much as it _could_ have hurt, he himself was weak enough so that Severus' weak grip had hurt really bad. And of course he also knew that the older wizard had not intended to hurt him at all. But that was not the point! The point was, that Severus had become weak, as weak as he himself was.

And _Snape_ was worried that he, _Harry_, might die. He _knew_ that the man was worried about that.

But – if Severus was worried about him, Harry, dying, and if Severus was getting as weak as he, Harry, was, then what if …

What if Severus …

What if his father …

Severus couldn't die!

He only had become his father!

And losing him now would kill him too!

He couldn't go on without Snape now!

Because Snape was the only one who …

He couldn't …

He simply couldn't …

"Harry!" A worried voice forced itself through his panicked thoughts, through the fog in his mind, trying to make itself noticed and trying to make itself listened to. "Harry! Breathe! Calm down! No, _calm down_, child! Take a deep breath and … _no, calm down,_ child, stop this … _Harry_!"

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He had watched Harry turning the last pages in the book, but he also had noticed the boy's eyes going distant, not really reading anymore what was written in the book he had searched for hours now, his concentration elsewhere. Well, of course Harry had become sleepy upon searching all those registers of potions. It wasn't too exciting after all.

But then he noticed the boy gripping the shirt in front of his chest, pulling at his shirt as if it would strangle him and he was at the child's side in an instant.

"Harry!" He called out, trying to keep his voice low enough so he wouldn't startle the already clearly frightened child but loud enough so the teen would hear him through his attack. "Breathe, Harry, calm down! No, _calm down_, child!" He said, trying to pull the boy's hands away from his shirt, but he had to tighten his grip on the painfully thin wrists and he was sure that he would leave bruises again if he continued like this.

So he simply wrapped his arms around the boy's upper body and pulled him off the chair he was sitting at, lowering himself to the floor with the teen in his arms, not releasing his tight grip he had on the struggling boy.

"Calm down, child." He continued telling the distraught boy. "Take a deep breath and … _no, calm down_, child, stop this … _Harry_!" He finally shouted when the teen just fought harder to get out of his grip. If he released him now, he only would hit his head at the floor or the table that was close by, or one of the last remaining chairs they had not burnt yet.

Well, at least it worked insofar that the boy stopped his struggling and he adjusted the small form in his arms into a more easy to hold position. On the other hand he didn't like the way Harry tensed up in his arms, as if fearing he would beat him any moment, and he gave away a small sigh.

"Hush now, child." He calmly whispered. "Just breathe, everything is fine, I will not hurt you and I will not beat you either. Just relax and calm down, take a deep breath and calm down. That's it. You are doing fine. You are safe here and no one will harm you here. Take another breath, slowly, _slower_, good, very good. Just calm down and relax."

Carefully and slowly he loosened the grip he'd had on the child's skeletal form, and he couldn't help taking one of the thin arms into his hand, not only for massaging the small amount of muscles but to feel for broken bones as well.

Of course he knew that it wasn't _that_ easy to break someone's bones, but Merlin – the child was so fragile and so thin and weak, and he … running his hand over his own face for a moment and forcing himself back to calmness he took a deep breath by himself before he continued massaging the child's other arm.

"What happened?" He then asked the meanwhile sobbing child that leaned with his back against his chest, his voice calm and he wondered how he could sound so calmly while he was so worried and upset that he felt the need to throw something against the wall.

"You're not allowed!" The boy sobbed and not only the fact that he actually got an answer from the stubborn child worried him, but his words as well. Normally Harry would bury his face in his, Severus', robes and refuse to answer for at least another two attempts from him to get an answer. And _what_ did the child mean anyway?

"_What_ am I not allowed to?" He softly asked.

"To die!" The child sobbed and he sighed, now knowing what had brought the panic attack over the teen that right now turned in his arms to bury his face in his robes.

"I won't die, you foolish child." He said, pulling the boy closer and wrapping the blanket that Vincent reached towards him around the shivering form. "I might have lost some of my harshness over the past two weeks, but not due to weakness, but due to the fact that all of you have grown rather close to me during that time. I have become weaker, yes, as have all of us and I won't deny that, but I am far from _dying_, child. I just do not see any reason to be harsh with you when all of you have behaved that well and when all of you have become so important to me."

"Don' wanna lose you." The boy in his arms still sobbed, as if he hadn't heard his words – or as if he wanted to hear them a second time – and he sighed.

"You will not lose me, child." He said. "Neither down here nor after we are free again. I will be quite here with you. You will not lose me." Gently he shoved the child off his chest, held him at arm length and looked into the troubled green eyes. "Is that clear now to you? You _won't_ lose me."

The boy nodded and slowly he got to his feet, gently pulling his son with him. A moment later however he had to steady the boy again, who stumbled and then leaned against him, closing his eyes for a moment and the realization hit him full force that this last panic attack and the teen struggling as much as he had, it had done no good to the already so damn weak child.

Gritting his teeth he seated the boy back onto the chair he had been sitting at earlier.

Merlin! He had already banned the boy from showering, had him washing himself in his office over a bowl of warm water he'd heated in the fireplace. And now this … at this rate the Dark Lord really would have to wait in line to kill the child.

But then a new determination hit him and his dark eyes grew hard for a moment.

He would _not_ _allow_ the boy dying, not down here and not at the hands of the Dark Lord either.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Alright." Ronald started and Severus lifted his eyebrow at the boy. He had not left their common table and he had not left Harry's side since the last half an hour. Harry only had calmed down slowly. Of course he had calmed down in his arms already, but he had been upset still and he just slowly had been back to being calm and comfortable – at least as comfortable as it was possible in their current situation.

"Alright, what about today?" The red-head asked and Harry lifted his eyes at his friend, a scowl on his face.

"Nothing is today." Harry then said. "It's just a stupid game! We need more than a stupid game! We need something that can destroy him for _real_ and not pink flowers or pink teddy bears!"

"Is it that what you have searched for, Harry?" Severus asked, worried. Was that what the boy had searched for in his potions index? Was that blasted boy really foolish enough to try something to destroy the Dark Lord before he was an adult? Before he was ready and prepared? At least as ready and prepared as one could be when facing that particular madman?

"Yes." Harry then answered, green eyes meeting dark black eyes. "I know what you want to say, but … this has to stop. I mean … dunno … it's just …"

"Let me make this clear from the start, Harry." Severus sternly said, his dark eyes still piercing the green ones in front of him. "I will _not_ allow you, a child, fighting a war that is the adults' to fight. This is theoretically, and _theoretically only_! So – what exactly did you find?"

"Not much." The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping even more. "And that what I've found is unrealistic in the end just as well. I've found a shrinking solution, but even if he's as small as an ant, he still will have his powers and I guess they wouldn't shrink with him. Then I've found a de-aging potion, and for a moment I thought that might be possible, we could de-age him until he'd become a small baby, and raise him so he wouldn't become evil. But it won't work either, because the moment he learns about his older self, he probably would become evil just all the same. And then I've found the forgetfulness potion. But even if he forgot all his reasons why he's so evil – he still would be evil in the first place."

"Exactly." Severus said. "And I am glad that you are realistic enough to see for yourself that it won't be possible to overcome the Dark Lord with a simple potion. If there _were_ a potion that would do that, then I would have found it already. I am a Potions Master after all, and I am the _best_ Potions Master within Great Britain, not to mention."

"Show-off!" Draco snickered, but he had enough sense in his head to quickly duck and leave the chair he was sitting at, approaching the other end of the table and sitting down beside Hermione.

"Coward!" Severus shot back, the moment his hand that had intended to cuff the back of the boy's head hit sole air, his dark eyes following his godson's retreat with amusement hidden beneath a scowl at the boy's snickering. "If there had _been_ a potion then I _would_ have found it."

"I know, I know." The blond boy laughed. "But what about a spell? Or a potion combined with a spell?"

"Do you not think that the headmaster and I have tried finding such a combination that actually could be done successfully and safely?" Severus asked, frowning at Draco. "And do not mistake me, Mr. Malfoy – and that goes for you, Mr. Snape as well as for anyone else here – if I find one of you trying to set _any_ foolish plan to destroy the Dark Lord in motion, then you will find yourself in more trouble than you are able to handle. You are children, all of you, and it is not your place to fight a war that is the adult's. You can do so the moment you come of age and are prepared, but not while you are still children. You would be dead before you even had the chance to face the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters would kill you the moment you just came close to any hideout. Your deaths would be meaningless then, pointless, lives taken on the light that might have become brilliant wizards in adult years, brilliant enough maybe to even succeed in defeating the Dark Lord. Do not rob yourself those chances by foolish and rush decisions."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

'_Thursday, 19__th__ of September 1994, day 18_

_The jokes became serious discussion and I fear that the children might do something stupid and end up getting killed before their time. Not that this situation here is any better, it might lead to their death before their time just as well, but at least they are not to be blamed for this. _

_Harry is getting weaker by the day, visibly, and I fear that he might not last for much longer now if a solution is not found soon. __He dropped twice yesterday and he had a panic attack today, an emotional breakdown that has eaten up most of his last remaining strength, something that not should have happened and that I have tried to avoid. _

_Draco, Theodore, Tracy and Parvati do not fare much better, they too are getting weaker by the day, but they have a chance to survive for a few days more. They definitely will need a strengthening potion immediately upon being freed, light and small meals __six or seven times a day, and they will need nutrient potions over a time span of a few weeks, but they do have a chance after all.  
_

_The same goes for the rest of the children, even if they do fare a bit better still. A strengthening potion surely won't be necessary right now, considering that the strengthening potion would give them a short energy push only. An immediate nutrient potion surely will do for now. The most tricky part will be keeping them from playing Quidditch for at least two or three or four weeks, and at least until they have regained some weight and strength.__ They surely won't like it. _

_Another important point: never mind what – I have promised them to walk out of these dungeons on their own feet, and I have promised them to get them to the great hall straight away for a long needed light meal__, air and a known place they feel comfortable in. I know that you will not be pleased about this, Poppy, but it will be necessary for their mental health. They have to do this on their own, and I ask you to allow them this display of dignity. It is imperative that they do so on their own. You might lead them, and you will need to have them resting on their way, but you will allow them doing so or I will haunt you from the afterlife!'_

For a moment he paused, remembering their discussion just an hour or so before. A discussion that had been so unlikely him, a discussion that had been so bizarre in the first place, it nearly had been startling, promising them something that he wouldn't be able to fulfil. He wasn't a person that made empty promises. He ordered, he threatened, he warned, and he carried out his threats – but he didn't _promise_, at least nothing that he could not keep. Never!

And yet – he had done just that.

**Flashback**

_"It's pointless anyway." Harry sighed, slumping in his chair and leaning forwards, placing his arms onto the table and his head atop his arms. "You don't have to worry, dad. We won't get out of here in time anyway."_

_Again the determination he had felt just moments before grasped his being and he stood, placing his hands onto the table and leaning close to his son, just like he had done once during defence last year, when he had covered Lupin's class during the full moon – the only difference was that back then, he had used this pose to intimidate the boy, to frighten him and to put him down. Now, he used this pose to make his point._

_The thin and pale face that looked up at him startled right now with a hint of fear and uncertainty even, indicated that Harry too remembered that particular defence lesson. _

_"You will listen now, Harry – all of you – and you will listen closely!" He slowly and softly said, but his voice – for once – held the same threatening tone people were used to when dealing with him. "You will leave these dungeons …"_

_"Yes, in a coffin …"_

_"You – will __– _leave – these dungeons!" He darkly growled, slowly, intoning each word and ignoring Ronald Weasley's remark, only throwing a menacing glare at the red-head. "And you will leave these dungeons on your own feet …"

_"And straight to the hospital wing – what a pleasant thought!" Draco threw in.  
_

_"… and you will go up to the great hall – on your own feet, by your own strength – for a much needed meal, as light as it might …"_

_"What strength?" Tracy quietly asked, whispered, but he heard it nevertheless – and chose to ignore it._

_"You still have strength left! And youwill leave the__se dungeons __…"_

___"We're barely able to keep upright!" Harry murmured, about to lean his arms back onto the table in front of him, about to lean his head back onto his arms then._

_"SILENCE!" The Potions Master shouted, slamming his flat hand onto the tabletop in front of him and leaning forwards again, causing Harry to rear back against the backrest of his chair startled and watching him with frightened large eyes.__  
_

___"You WILL __– leave these dungeons _by your own strength and you still HAVE strength left for doing just this …"

_"We haven't, and you know this, sir!" Vincent said, louder than the others had, and quickly he went towards the boy and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him up from his chair until the boy stood in front of him. _

_Well, he knew which child of his house he could intimidate like this, and Vincent was one who would neither be too startled, nor too frightened like Theodore or Harry would be, and angrily he looked down his nose and into the boy's angry eyes._

_"You have no idea, Mr. Crabbe, what a human body is capable of surviving." He slowly and darkly, angrily, growled, nearly whispered. "You seem to have learned nothing from your father – luckily. And you __– _WILL _– _survive this! And do not mistake me on this, this is not a request – it is an order. You – will – survive this! And you will – leave – these dungeons – on your own feet – and with your own – strength. Is – that – absolutely – clear?"

**End flashback**

Vincent had nodded, quickly, knowing that he was deathly serious if he whispered like this, and the moment he finally had released the boy, had shoved him back into his chair and had looked over the other children, they too had nodded, just as quickly as had Vincent. And despite the fear that had been clearly written over Harry's face, those green eyes had held a new determination that had been missing since a few days now, and that was all he had planned giving them. Something they could take a hold at.

He had been harsh, yes. And he had startled the Gryffindors, especially Harry, yes. But he had seen in the eyes of his Slytherins that they had been calmed by his actions, knowing that they had their teacher back, the one that would not coddle them, and he had seen in the eyes of his Gryffindors that they had been calmed by his actions then as well, knowing that they had their greasy git back, the one that would be harsh upon them to make his point – and to keep them safe.

So – all in all – they all had learned something today, even if it had not been in a way he had planned.

'_I know that I have promised them something that most likely I won't be able to keep, so spare me the trouble of a reprimand, Albus, but it was what I felt at the time that it was needed. Hope is something that might do wonders, and even if I never have believed in hope or wonders, those children have the right to. __They have the right to believe in hope and they have the right to believe in wonders, and that is what I gave them today. Hopefully it will last and hopefully you will hurry with getting those blasted wards down._

_One last note: the moment you get the children out of here, do not give them a calming draught. They will need to release their relief, even if it will be with tears. Do not try to calm them, comfort them, yes, but do not try to calm them, allow them to relieve their relief and the strain that has built since their imprisonment.'_

Placing the quill aside and closing the ink pot he put the parchment atop the stack of parchments that already lay on his desk. A stack that was his … _'journal'_ … that was his – last wish – to Albus. Parchments over parchments, about thirty or thirty-five pieces by now, including the letter Harry had written to him ten days ago and including the last wish the boy had written just the night before.

His gaze wandered over to the boy and for a moment he huffed.

Despite the grave situation – and the situation _was_ grave, it was _deathly_ meanwhile – they still had managed to joke around the moment all had calmed down again.

**Flashback**

_"You know, we could learn how to become animagi, and then we could try getting out of here." Ronald said, a frown on his face. "I'm sure that as a bug or something __like that we'd manage."_

_Well, he was just about to say that it wouldn't work, that they would need the ability of doing magic to become animagi, not to mention that it took weeks and weeks to learn this particular skill, and even then not every witch or wizard could even do this at all, but then Harry shook his head at the red-haired teen._

_"Wouldn't be possible, we can't do magic." The raven haired boy said and he frowned. "However, even if it were possible, then you better be glad that we're down here together with Severus and not with Lockhart, because if HE taught us how to become an animagus, we only would manage to end up as an animal without a brain, like the bear that was befriended with the rabbit." _

_"What happened to that bear?" Ronald asked, curiously._

_"Well, it __wandered through the woods together with the rabbit, peacefully, and then they met a faerie." Harry started, and Severus huffed. A bear and a rabbit, wandering the woods, peacefully, and then meeting a faerie! That was just ridiculous! But well, the child was joking again, even if he did so in a weak voice, speaking slowly and softly, but he did joke.  
_

_"__And the faerie granted them three wishes for their display of harmony." Harry continued, causing him to snort at the very idea. "The bear, always eager, immediately said: 'I'd like that all the bears within this woods were female, except of me, of course.' The rabbit blinked at the bear, but then shrugged and the faerie waved her wand and then said: 'Your wish is granted, all bears within this woods are female now, except of you.' Then she looked at the rabbit expectantly. 'I'd like to have a helmet.' The rabbit simply said. The faerie waved her wand and the rabbit had a helmet. She looked over at the bear who rubbed his paws. 'I don't know what you would like doing with a helmet, rabbit, but if I think it over, I'd like that all the bears within Great Britain are female, except of me, of course. I'm still young after all and I'll live for a few more years yet.' The rabbit blinked at the bear again, but then shrugged and the faerie again waved her wand and then said: 'Alright bear, all bears within Great Britain are female now.'"_

_"That bear's stupid." Draco snorted. "He could have had this wish in the beginning."_

_"Course he could." Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "But wait! The faerie looked over at the rabbit who said: 'I'd like to have a motorbike.' The faerie waved her wand and a motorbike stood beside the rabbit. She looked over at the bear again, who scratched his head. 'Well.' The bear then said. 'If I think it over, I'm VERY young actually. Well, I'd like that the bears all over the world are female, except of me, of course.' The rabbit again blinked at the bear, shook his head, but then shrugged and the faerie again waved her wand. 'Alright, bear, the bears all over the world, except of you, are female now.' She then said, looking over at the rabbit that put on the helmet, climbed onto the motorbike and started the engine. Then the rabbit grinned, looked at the faerie and said: 'My third wish is – that the bear becomes gay.' And with that he drove away quickly."_

_He couldn't help laughing out aloud at that, followed __by the others. _

_"You're stupid." Ronald claimed the moment the laugher had died down a bit._

_"I know." Harry answered, grinning. _

_"And yes, I am glad that we're not down here with Lockhart!" Ronald then growled darkly. "Imagine! He would drive all of us into madness!"_

_"Because he didn't get any fan mail down here." Harry laughed. _

_"And because he couldn't change his robes twice a day." Draco snickered._

_"And because he couldn't have his favourite blend of tea each day either." Vincent growled._

_"We couldn't have learnt anything from him!" Even Hermione, who__'d had a crush on Lockhart back in their second year like all the other girls, had to admit now._

_"I am glad that you consider it a lucky thing, being locked up for more than two weeks with me instead of Lockhart." Severus huffed. "Even though I am the evil dungeons bat."_

_"You're not that bad, dad." Harry answered, blushing. "At least you're not stupid."_

_"And you don't drive us mad." Draco still snickered._

_"Not yet." Severus couldn't help answering, smirking at their horrified looks._

**End flashback**

He had given Harry as much hope as he had given the other children, yes, he had seen it in the boy's green eyes, yes, and the joke he'd made later had been proof of that just as well, yes. But the harm that had been done earlier with the child's panic attack that had eaten away a lot of the child's remaining strength, that had been little to begin with, all the hope he might have given him had not countered the damage this blasted panic attack had caused.

Harry hadn't even been able to get off the chair alone later, without his help. He hadn't been able to walk back to the mattresses alone, without his help, without him leading the boy either, and nevertheless he hadn't been able to sleep the moment he had lain at his _'bed'_, had curled into a small ball, his fists clutching the shirt over his stomach and he knew that the boy had been in pain. In pain hunger had caused.

He had lain down behind his son, like he always did when Harry was unable to sleep, and he had cradled the boy to his chest, had taken the small fists into one of his own hands and with the other he had started to massage calming circles over the boy's stomach. And yet – while the boy normally fell asleep rather soon while being held, he hadn't been able to fall asleep for a long time tonight, the boy being as restless as he had been the night before.

Was this restlessness the storm before all would end? Was this restlessness a last rearing up? Did the child feel that the end was near? That he would die soon?

He hadn't been able to get up by himself later, when he had needed to use the loo. He hadn't had slept before, even if he had lain still in his arms, only turning once in a while. He had brought Harry over to the mattress at eight, like always, and the teen had started struggling at about half past ten. He had waited for a few minutes, forcing himself to wait and see if the boy would manage alone, knowing how the fourteen year old might feel if he couldn't get up by himself, but in the end he had pulled the boy to his feet and had led him towards the bathroom.

He had given him the privacy of using the loo himself, had left the bathroom the moment the boy was inside and had a grip at the sink and he had waited until he had heard the boy calling out for help when he had been unable to get off the loo by himself. He had ignored the startled and pale face, the scared look and the trembling limbs while he had pulled him to his feet again, had pulled up the boy's trousers and had closed the buttons while the boy himself had taken a death grip on his, Severus' arms, and again he had wondered if there had been more to the Dursley's abuse.

And if there was – then how might the child have felt in this moment? Merlin!

Again his anger at those monsters rose to unknown limits.

If they made it out of here, then he would pay them a visit, he promised to himself.

Slowly he got off the chair behind his desk and slowly he went over to the mattresses where Harry finally slept, having fallen asleep just moments after they had been back, allowing him, Severus, the freedom of writing down his daily notes to the headmaster, and then he lay down behind his son, again wrapping his arms around the fragile and bony body, gently, without waking him, but sleep refused to come for a long time, until he finally fell into a restless dream-like state.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the tragedy of Hogwarts  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	25. the tragedy of Hogwarts

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_Slowly he got off the chair behind his desk and slowly he went over to the mattresses where Harry finally slept, having fallen asleep just moments after they had been back, allowing him, Severus, the freedom of writing down his daily notes to the headmaster, and then he lay down behind his son, again wrapping his arms around the fragile and bony body, gently, without waking him, but sleep refused to come for a long time, until he finally fell into a restless dream-like state._

**Chapter twenty-five**

**Day ****nineteen – Friday****, twentieth of September**

**The tragedy of Hogwarts**

Harry knew it was dark, even before he opened his eyes. And he also was cold and hungry and his stomach was balled up in cramps. But – why was he back in his cupboard at the Dursleys, he wondered, even if part of his mind knew that this couldn't be right. Severus, _his_ Severus, his _father_, had promised him that he never had to be back there again. And his Severus, his _father_, never broke his promises, he knew that. Severus Snape was a harsh man, but he was an honest man, he knew that. But part of him still doubted it, and before he could think further of Severus, the Dursleys and his cupboard, he sank back into darkness again.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The teenager he still held in his arms stirred and for a moment he took a deep breath, wondering how it was that he felt so … _alright_ … upon waking with a teenager in his arms since days now before he opened his eyes to actually look over at said teenager. Shouldn't he feel disgusted? Shouldn't he feel … _wrong_? _Somehow_? It wasn't normal to have a barely fourteen year old teenager in his arms, not for a man that had adopted said barely fourteen year old teenager just days ago.

But then – it wasn't normal to be locked in a dungeon without food and with fourteen children for nearly nineteen days either. So what? He never had been a man that had listened to the gossip of others. He never had been a man that cared about what others said or how they viewed him, how they judged him.

Harry was just a fourteen year old teenager, yes, and he had adopted the boy just days ago, yes, but Harry also was a child that had been abused, that had been starved and that had been unloved, starved not only of food, but of love as well. And Harry was a child that was about to die. So – no, he did not care. So – yes, if he could comfort that child with holding him in his sleep, then he would do so.

"Good morning, Harry." He quietly said, running the fingertips of his left hand over the boy's forehead.

A moment later however he frowned when the child backed away from him, his arms weakly going up over his face.

"Please, uncle Vernon." The boy murmured in his sleep, curling away from him. "I'm sorry … didn' do anything … 'm sorry."

He knew what those words meant, but he wasn't sure if the boy was awake or not, if he were still dreaming or if it was more than that. He knew that hallucinations could start at one point or another, but he wasn't sure if this really was one or if it was a simple nightmare. Gently he just pulled the teenager back into his arms and held him close to his chest.

"It is alright, Harry." He whispered while he ran his hand up and down the bony spine. "It is alright. You are safe. Your uncle cannot harm you here."

"No." The boy shook his head against his chest. "Please … I promise … won' do it 'gain …"

"Hush child." Severus continued to run his hand over the child's back, wondering why the boy didn't back away again as he still seemed to talk to his uncle. Narrowing his eyes he forced himself to think clearly, something that had become difficult over the past days. "You have done nothing wrong, child." He said. The slurred speech indicated that the boy wasn't fully awake yet, so – most likely it was just a half-dreaming state he was in, instead of really hallucinating. "Everything is just fine, Harry, you are safe. You are not with your uncle and he cannot harm you here."

"Not … but …" The boy stammered, starting to wriggle free and he loosened his grip on the bony form. "What … _dad_!"

He nearly could hear the relief in the boy's voice and he sighed with relief himself. It had been a simple nightmare the boy had woken from and he seemed to be fully awake now. He wasn't hallucinating yet.

"Are you awake now?" He couldn't help asking, even if he knew how stupid this particular question was.

"Not fully." The boy murmured, trying to sit up. "I'm still booting."

Snorting at the child's rotten sense of humour he gripped one of the thin upper arms to help the boy in his attempt of sitting up, but as soon as he was sitting, he groaned and fell back onto the mattress, his eyes closed.

"Well, you seem to have some trouble with your booting process, as it seems, maybe you should change your system software." He smirked at the flabbergasted look Harry gave him when he opened his eyes startled at his words. Did his son think that he didn't know what computers were? Still smirking he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"Stay down until I got the bowl with the warm water from the fire." He growled and got up. Some of the other students already were up and sitting at their table, playing or reading, while others were still asleep, and while he pulled the bowl with the water he had started to place on an alcove in the fireplace during the night so Harry always had hot water to wash himself in the mornings, Dean Thomas entered the classroom, clearly coming from the shower as his hair was dripping wet and he scowled at the boy.

"Why is your hair dripping, Dean?" He asked the boy upon his entrance. "I do know that the towel is not the driest after several students have used it already, but your hair is too wet – as are your clothes. Did you not use the towel at all?"

"Uhm … no, sir." The boy said, looking anywhere but him.

"And why not, Dean?" He asked, placing his fingertips beneath the child's chin to lift his head. "I have told you how imperative it is to dry yourself after a shower. It is too cold down here to risk anything and the small fire we have running surely is not enough to heat up the room entirely. It merely provides a basis – _warmth_ – that will ensure the dungeon won't be cooling completely."

"I know." The boy answered. "But … well … it's been used so much meanwhile and it's dirty and wet and … it's just _ugly_!"

Gritting his teeth Severus took a deep breath. He could understand the boy's reluctance to use the towel in the first place. But they had only two and he did his best to keep them as clean as possible, washing one while the other one was in use. But as they didn't have any soap left, he only could wash it with warm water and then hang it over the mantelpiece to dry it. And he knew that from the hygienic point of view – it simply wasn't enough.

But there were a lot of things that were not enough from a hygienic point of view – such as them being unable to change their clothes since nineteen days now, such as them being unable to really brush their teeth or such as their bedclothes not being changed since days, such as them not being able to use soap anymore while showering as none were left, such as them having only warm water left in the showers.

"I know this." He finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But we have no more than those two towels and we are eighteen people down here. It is cold down here and it won't get warmer, I can promise you that, so you simply will have to deal with this, Dean. I can understand your aversion to our situation that lacks of hygiene at every corner in the first place, but you will have no other choice than dealing with it if you wish to survive. This is not a game, Dean, this is serious business and if I find you dripping wet just once more, then be assured you will write until your fingers fall off. I _do_ need some fingers in one of my potions. And now sit down by the fire so you may get dry without catching a lung infection, you idiot child!"

Finally taking the bowl of warm water from the ledge in the fireplace he went towards his office and placed it onto his desk before going back to the mattresses to get Harry.

"Are you awake now?" He drawled while kneeling down beside the boy and running one hand over the boy's so startling pale face.

"Nearly." The child answered, smirking at him as if he wanted to challenge him. "The operating system isn't up yet."

"Then change your Windows for Linux!" He growled. "Are you ready to get up yet?" He then asked, getting serious, his dark eyes watching the child intently.

"Yes, sir." The boy answered, just as seriously. Well, they were beyond the point where they didn't know each other, all of them. They knew exactly when he meant it and they acted accordingly. That it was, what he had meant a few days ago, when he had told Ronald Weasley that he indeed was pleased with them. They not only recognized when he was serious, but they also acted accordingly, they obeyed his orders and they used their brains. None of them acted like the disobedient and insufferable adolescents they actually were and so – yes, he indeed _was_ very proud of them.

"Then up with you." He said, getting to his feet as well but staying close, his dark eyes trained on the boy's struggling movement and a moment later he pulled the boy up on his upper arm.

"Sorry." Harry said and he scowled at the boy.

"Do not apologize for things you have no control over, Harry." He seriously said, leading the boy off the mattresses and through the classroom towards his office.

It was slow going, the boy's movements slow and sluggish, unsure and weak, but he didn't mind. The boy still moved at all, still walked at all, and that was more than he could ask for after nearly three months of starvation if he thought of the child's summer holidays with his relatives that hadn't provided him with enough food to keep a bird alive.

How could those monsters keep food from the child for so long and so horribly? Had the boy not asked them for food at one point or another? Had the boy not told them that he was hungry? How could those people ignore a child's question for food? How could those people ignore a child's stomach rumbling and cramping?

But well – no. Most likely the child had not asked them for food, most likely the child had not _dared_ to ask them for food, maybe the child had not even thought that he would deserve food while being with them.

But how could _they_ …

Considering the startled look, the child that had occupied his thoughts just now, the child he was leading towards his office right now, most likely had not even realized that his knees had buckled out beneath him, but the Potions Master had anticipated such and his movements were quick enough so that in a second he had caught the boy and a moment later he was hoisting him up into his arms.

He was weak himself meanwhile, and he knew that. He wasn't stupid enough to think that after more than two weeks without food he would be as strong as he always had been, but the little effort it took him to lift the boy up into his arms and to carry him towards his office, it was startling. The child weighted none to nothing! How could this child be alive still? A small child surely weighted more than this teenage child here right now did!

And again the teen apologized while he seated him onto a chair in front of his desk!

"I already told you to _not_ apologize for things you have no control over!" He growled darkly while he placed the cloth he had given the boy the day before into the bowl. "And now get undressed and yourself washed, Mr. Snape." He said.

"But you shouldn't be bothered with my weakness!" The child had the audacity to answer while opening the buttons of his shirt. "The others …"

"The others are different children with different needs and weaknesses." He said, leaning his hands atop the desk and close to the boy. "And now I suggest that you get washed before that water is entirely cold. I will not re-heat it!"

"Shouldn't have done so in the first place." The boy murmured while at least finally starting to wash his face. "You shouldn' worry so much 'bout me in the first place and you shouldn' care so much either. It's not worth the …"

"I would _not_ finish this sentence if I were you, young man!" He couldn't keep himself from hissing at the boy that at least had the audacity to flinch.

"But it's true!" The blasted brat said. "You should care 'bout yourself! And …"

"I am sorry, Mr. Snape, but I can not do that." He quietly said, leaning back and sadly looking at the boy in front of him. "Because you see, it is my son that I watch dying a little more every day and right in front of my eyes." How less did this child think of himself? How low was his own value to him? Did he not see how much he, Severus, cared? "Do you not see how much it pains me seeing you like this?" He then asked and suddenly the child dropped his arms onto his desk and buried his face in his arms.

"I'm sorry." The boy said into his arms, sobbed into his arms. "I didn't mean to."

Severus was around the desk within a moment and gently placed his hand at the scarred shoulder-blade that stuck out in an awkward angle.

"I know you didn't." He said, ignoring the flinch at the touch. "And neither is it your fault. But the fact remains that it does pain me seeing you like this. You do not know how much I have become to care for you, child. Go an washing this skinny body of yours or I will scrub you with the scrubbing brush!"

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Upon coming back to the classroom Harry already had been exhausted again and Severus had put the worn out child down for a nap, even if it had been just ten in the morning, and now he was sitting beside his son's mattress, just drinking in the sight of the boy sleeping while he once more wondered why in Merlin's name he had made that choice in the beginning, adopting this particular child. Not that he regretted his choice, definitely not, but he wondered why, what had caused this decision?

But then, now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure anymore if he'd really ever _had_ that choice. Because there was just too much pain in those unsure green eyes, too much that tore at him, those green eyes that had been screaming at him _'care for me, anyone' _that had been screaming at him_ 'care for me, for once'_. And if he had to be honest with himself, then he had to admit that those green eyes had screamed those particular words from the very first beginning, from the moment he had seated himself opposite the boy in his very first potions class, after he had asked him all those questions no first year – aside from Hermione of course – could have been able to answer.

If he had to be honest with himself, then he also had to admit that he had not approached the boy and seated himself opposite the boy because of the insolent answer he had given him upon his own bait, but because he had wanted to have a closer look at the child. Because if he was honest with himself, then he had to admit that he had been startled the moment he had laid eyes on James Potter's son during the sorting feast the day before.

James Potter never had been a small boy, on the contrary. He had been one of the larger boys in his year. Lily had not been small either, she had been average, but where Lily had been slender and well built, Potter had been slender but muscular. And so he had been startled to lay eyes on a small, scrawny, skinny scarecrow that had sticks instead of arms. And yes, he had been able to see those sticks beneath the child's robes that hang on him limply.

The boy had looked like a seven or eight year old, not like an eleven year old child that attended first year at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry and he had approached the boy and had seated himself opposite him to have a closer look on that child, just to make sure that it _really_ was James Potter's son he had in front of him.

The truth however was – back then even, he had not seen James Potter's son, but Lily Evan's. He had not seen the arrogant and coldly smirking black-haired boy that was spoiled and used to being worshiped, but a child that had looked at him with unsure and nearly frightened green eyes behind broken spectacles. And yet – he had refused to acknowledge the cry for help in those green eyes. He had seen it, but he had refused to acknowledge it, this deep wish for someone, _anyone_, who cared about him for once.

And the knowledge of his own failure of the child tore at him, made him bleed and made him worry and care just the more for the boy now.

Severus Snape was not a man who worried himself needlessly. If there was something that bothered him, then he would search for a solution – and there was always one – and act accordingly to solve the problem, before searching out the culprit – and there was always one just as well – and let that person or thing pay for the reason of his bothering. Something that was not possible right now and down here in the dungeons, however.

And yet – he swore to himself, the moment he would be out of here, never mind the outcome, namely if Harry survived or not, he would pay a visit to Vernon and Petunia Dursley at number four Privet Drive in Surrey, and the only question was – would they survive or not, and what he would do then – this question would depend on – would _Harry_ survive or not.

Gently he ran his fingers over his son's face, trying to comfort the sleeping child and with some satisfaction he noticed that the worried lines in the small and bony pale face eased upon his touch.

Well, neither had he ever been a man who liked the company of others, and especially not _close_ company, and surely not the company of _children_, but at one point or another during the last two weeks he had grown used to _that_ boy's close company, had grown used to touch that boy and being touched by him.

He had grown used to the unexpected smiles the child threw at him sometimes, the still so haunted and unsure look in those green eyes which he longed to erase, and he had gotten used to the soft whimpers of fear during the night that the child couldn't silence and which he wanted nothing else than taking away.

He had gotten used to the lost look, and not only in the child's eyes but the child himself looking so lost, so hurt and so needy of comfort, that he wanted nothing more than providing this child with the comfort he so much longed for. And he even had gotten used to the child looking so frightened and scared as if he wanted nothing else than running away and never having to think of all the horrors he had been through again, that caused him to wish he could make it all undone.

But he knew that this was not possible. He could not undo the past. He only could hope that they would survive this, and that he then could start anew with this child, his son, and make it all better.

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For a moment he had felt peace in the darkness that threatened to swallow him, in the coldness that threatened to never release him, in the pain and fear that threatened to throw him into an abyss he knew would be too deep for him to climb up from again. He simply wouldn't have the strength to climb up from this abyss he was falling into and he knew that only his cupboard and his uncle waited for him at the ground.

For a moment he had felt peace and safety and the care of someone who was there for him, but then it had been gone the moment the touch from his forehead had been gone and he knew that he was back at the Dursleys. He still didn't understand why his dad had brought him back here, but he couldn't change it, never mind if he knew the reason or not. And if he ever had learned anything with the Dursleys, then it was not to question anything that he couldn't change anyway. It only took energy to question things, energy he would need to survive. And maybe, if he was strong enough, then maybe his dad would come back to get him? Maybe, if he was a good boy? And if he did all his chores and never complained about being hungry and about the beatings? Then maybe his dad would come back? And would get him back to Hogwarts and into the dungeons classroom?

Opening his eyes weakly he could see his uncle advancing and despite his intentions to being a good boy and just taking everything without complaining, he couldn't help cringing at the thought of what would come.

"I'll be good, uncle Vernon." He couldn't help whimpering with fear. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll be good, I promise."

His uncle advanced on him anyway, and he grabbed him by his arms anyway to pull him out of his cupboard.

If only his father would be there to get him away. But if he would be a good boy and take it all without complaining, then surely he would come and get him back to his classroom.

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Severus sighed with relief the moment Harry finally opened his eyes and looked at him startled, and this time he couldn't even bring himself to reprimand him for apologizing yet again for having those blasted nightmares, but he simply had no energy left for doing so.

He had given Harry and Theodore the last vials of dreamless sleep potion three days ago, but Theodore fared far better than Harry did. While Theodore had nightmares only during the nights and was awakened easily, Harry had them whenever he closed his eyes and it always took him some time until he got the boy awake and aware that it only had been a nightmare, that it wasn't real, that he was safe. And this time it had taken him nearly half an hour until the boy finally had stopped begging his uncle to stop beating him for _'stealing food from the trash bin under the sink', _something that had nearly left him seething with rage and fury at those bloody relatives of the child, at Petunia, Lily's sister.

The horrified looks on the other children's faces had told him enough of how scared they had been too, about the horror they had felt at Harry's mumbled words and at the boy's trashing in his arms until he finally had managed to wake him fully and get him aware completely, but he didn't have the time to tend to their needs right now and to calm them, or reassure them.

"You will stay in this position, Harry." He strictly said the moment the boy tried to sit up. "And you will stay in this position for at least a few minutes."

"Need the loo." The boy mumbled and he sighed.

"Alright." He said, pulling the boy into a sitting position. "Stay like this for at least another minute, then I will help you getting up."

He didn't quite like the weak nod the boy gave him, but at least the boy was awake now. And right now that was all that counted, because for a moment he really had thought he wouldn't be able to wake the child ever again. He even had shaken him, had shouted at him at one point. He had felt horrible for doing so, because he had known that it had worsened the boy's nightmare. Harry had started screaming then himself and for a few moments he had thought the boy would break his neck with his attempts to struggle out of his arms.

In the end he had lain there, softly crying in his sleep and only then he had been able to slowly get him out of his nightmare and then finally awake.

Turning the boy on his shoulder until he sat with his back to him he reached under his armpits and gently pulled him into a standing position, ignoring said boy's protests while he led him out of the classroom, his left arm still beneath his armpit, wrapped around the boy's chest to support him and the other hand gripping his right upper arm to steady him.

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"I really wonder how people could be so stupid." Draco said, throwing himself onto the mattress beside Harry.

It had been the same than it had been last night, Severus had led Harry into the bathroom and he only had left the moment Harry had taken a secure grip on the sink. He would have liked to stay, just to make that the boy would not fall, but he also had known that Harry would not like this and upon considering which decision would cause more damage he had left the bathroom, sure that the emotional trauma upon forcing the boy to use the loo in his presence would be worse than the physical damage if he fell.

At least he had hoped so.

But he could have stayed anyway, as a few moments later he had heard the boy hitting the floor and giving away a small cry. He quickly had entered and upon making sure that Harry had not hit his head or broken anything he wordlessly had redressed the scared and uncomfortably fidgeting, nearly crying teenager. Without another word he had lifted the weak body into his arms and had carried him back to the mattresses where Harry had curled into a small ball, clearly frustrated with himself – and ashamed.

And he, Severus, simply had not known how to reassure the child that he neither had a reason to feel frustrated, nor to feel ashamed.

"What happened?" Neville asked while Harry refused to do more than looking over at the blond boy.

"Those idiots from the wireless happened!" Draco growled and finally Harry turned and seemed to forget his own misery.

"Why?" Neville asked. "What did they say this time?"

"They're planning to make a story out of this!" Draco hissed angrily.

"They are … _what_?" Severus growled darkly.

"They're planning to make a story out of this!" Draco repeated. "They say that they are searching for someone who writes a story about the _'Tragedy of Hogwarts'_ and then Liberus Lector would read it on the wireless. A chapter each day, they said."

"You are right, the stupidity of some people really have grown to become unlimited!" He growled darkly, not pleased at all at the thought of what those idiots from the wireless were planning.

"That's not entirely correct." Harry softly said and Severus looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"How is that so?" He then asked, glad that the child at least had forgotten his own misery for a moment and was partaking in the conversation.

"The sum of the intelligence on a planet is a constant." The boy answered and he nearly could see a smirk the blasted brat tried to suppress. Nearly – the boy definitely was good at keeping a straight face. "Just the population expands." The brat finished and he shook his head at the statement.

Well, at least the child was back to partaking in their conversations and he was relieved, knowing that – at least for now – the child was alright.

"Wanna come over to the table for a game of jumping pawns?" Gregory asked and the Potions Master scowled. He didn't want Harry up from the mattresses, not yet, the boy was simply becoming too weak. But then – the boy also needed to prove himself and to play around with his friends. So – well, he could allow him a bit, he could carry him to the table and set him down there with a blanket for a while. But Harry was quicker than he was, as it seemed, tiredly shaking his head.

"Don' feel so good." The boy mumbled and his concern reached new heights. If Harry admitted that he didn't feel well, then he really must feel miserable, because he normally never admitted anything that could be taken as weakness. That boy's thirst to prove himself was nearly without limits and so he didn't wonder that he nearly had been sorted into his house. If only the child had allowed the blasted hat to place him in his house, or if only that blasted hat had kept true to his decision despite the boy's wish to not being sorted into Slytherin. Harry would have found true friends there as well. And he would have his, Severus', help from the beginning on.

He always had his Slytherins checked up by Poppy on the very first day they arrived at Hogwarts because he knew that they never came to him by their own, and so he would have known about the abuse immediately – and he would have reacted back then.

And right now, it maybe could have saved the boy's life even, because he wouldn't have been back with his relatives this summer and he wouldn't have been starved and beaten by them during this summer, he would have been a healthy teenager to begin with, just like most of the others and he would have had better chances of surviving this until they were freed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was Thursday, and they had potions.

But honestly, none of them paid any attention. Potions was not potions since Snape wasn't there anymore to teach that particular subject and Slughorn simply was not Snape. Yes, potions had become less stressful with Slughorn, and yes, less acerbic remarks were made during potions now too. Even their grades had become better now. But if they were honest, then they knew that somehow they didn't deserve the now rather good grades.

Snape had been unfair when handling his Slytherins compared to other houses, yes, but he never had given unfair grades. And the marks they had gotten from Snape always had been those they had deserved.

Just during their last potions class Fred had gotten an outstanding when he knew that he had not even done an exceed expectations. It had been a rather poor acceptable and he knew it. He would have gotten an acceptable from Snape for his draught of peace but definitely not an outstanding and surely not even an exceed expectations.

But Slughorn had given him an outstanding.

As he did with every student which parents either had been fighting in the order once or were famous – or had money. It was disgusting. The entire man was disgusting with his display of favouritism towards fame and prominence – or good looks and money. And even the Slytherins thought so. He had overheard some of them complaining about Slughorn. They wanted Snape back.

As did he – and Fred.

Well, the saying applied – you just know what you had, the moment you have lost it.

And Snape really hadn't been so bad. If he thought about some comments Snape had made during potions, well, the man at least used to have a sense of humour, even if a rotten one, but he had been funny at times. And concerning Snape's cold black eyes, he had seen amusement hidden in them from time to time just as well as concern. So – no, Snape really had not been so bad.

And at least his marks always had been fair. He never had felt as if he had cheated like he did right now.

Not to mention that since Slughorn was here, more than twice as many students had needed to visit the infirmary already due to potions accidents. Snape simply had been the better teacher, even if he had been harsh and what had this guy said? 'Be hard upon'! Yep, that was the correct description – harsh, strict and hard upon them. But he also had always been there and they always had been able to ask him questions about potions – or even other things as long as they asked respectfully and didn't mess around with him.

Frowning he took the notebook from his third year out of his trunk and turned the pages, read over their notes they had made over that year. They had not only taken the notes from classes but they had scribbled down each and every information about potions in the notebook – much to Snape's annoyance, he remembered.

Snape – contraire to other teachers at Hogwarts – had collected their notebooks from time to time, just to look them through – whatever reason for he had done so – well, most likely to make sure they really took notes and kept their notebooks orderly, and as theirs held informations that were not related to the classes directly as well as the notes they took in classes, Snape had always had to search for those parts that had been _not_ random notes. On the other hand, Snape always had commented on their random notes just as well as on their regular notes they had taken during the class and that way they had learned a lot more.

'_This won't work, Mr. Weasley, as the __aconite would not react with the asphodel.'_ He read and he had to grin at the spidery comment Snape had made to one of their theories.

'_No, but with the erumpent horn.'_ He had written beneath Snape's comment and he snickered at the memory of a Potions Professor that had handed him back his notebook after he had collected it the _next_ time. Snape had looked at him for more than just a few seconds and his dark eyes had been hard and unforgiving, clearly stating: _'don't you dare or you won't survive it'_.

Well, he was sure that Snape would have said it differently, in more and greater words, but the meaning was the same nevertheless and he had opened his notebook, skimmed it through to find Snape's answer to the note he had written beneath the Potions Master's comment a few weeks ago.

'_Dare to get caught by me brewing an exploding fluid while being at Hogwarts and you will serve detention for the rest of this school year, loosing body parts one by one each detention for being used as potions ingredients. I am in need of a few fingers right now, just to begin with.'_

Yes, that had been Snape, sarcastic, a bastard sometimes, dark harsh and tough – but really funny with his remarks and helpful too.

"You think we could get some aconite and erumpent horn from Slughorn's stocks?" He asked and George looked over at him with a frown on his face.

"Whatever for?" He then asked. "The exploding fluid never worked."

"Nope, it didn't." He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "But who said I'd like to make a regular exploding fluid?"

"Alright, dear brother, then what is it you wish to create in your unlimited wisdom?"

"In my unlimited wisdom, I wish to make a special exploding fluid."

"What kind of special exploding fluid do you wish to make, oh Master of the Pranks?"

"One that will toss all the Slytherins out of their beds, you ignoramus."

"Oh, you Master of the Pranks, and how do you think you will manage this in your unlimited wisdom?"

"With the help of a teacher – _for once_."

"With the – alright, dear brother, now I start to doubt your unlimited wisdom! Because never – _absolutely never_ – get a teacher in on one of your pranks!"

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_the end is near  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	26. the end is near

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"Alright, dear brother, then what is it you wish to create in your unlimited wisdom?"_

_"In my unlimited wisdom, I wish to make a special exploding fluid."_

_"What kind of special exploding fluid do you wish to make, oh Master of the pranks?"_

_"One that will toss all the Slytherins out of their beds, you ignoramus."_

_"Oh, you Master of the pranks, and how do you think you will manage this in your unlimited wisdom?"_

_"With the help of a teacher – for once."_

_"With the – alright, dear brother, now I start to doubt your unlimited wisdom! Because never – absolutely never – get a teacher in on one of your pranks!"_

**Chapter twenty-six**

**Day ****twenty – Saturday****, twenty-first of September**

**The end is near**

Sleeping had become a rather difficult thing, not only for Harry, but for the others as well, as they were awakened by the boy's screams and sobs each time he had a nightmare. But none of them complained or made fun of the boy and Severus was glad for that. All of them had started to have nightmares over the past few days, some more, some less, but none of them, not even Theodore who had them every night too, had as violent and brutal nightmares as had Harry and he had trouble getting the boy out of them each time. It became harder to get him out of his nightmares and awake the weaker the boy became, he noticed.

He had bound himself to this child without knowing where all of this would end up, without a second thought and without hesitation, he had bound himself to this child that even now was slipping away into shadows, that had become weaker and weaker within hours now, that had become a shadow of himself even.

The rings beneath the tired eyes had turned into large and dark smudges and even with the blanket dropped over him, his thinness was obvious, as was the now constant shivering. The boy's breath had become an uneven struggle, the lungs giving away a scratching sound with each breath he took and the child had started coughing every now and then throughout the night while the movements of the skeletal limbs had become sluggish and weak.

Severus ran his hand over his face tiredly. There was no denying it, the child was dying. Slowly, and not without a fight, but inevitably the child was dying and he was dying a bit more with each hour that passed.

The teen had slept fairly well through the morning after he had been awake for an hour or two, and he had come halfway awake a couple of times since, definitely only vaguely aware of his, Severus', presence – _in his cupboard! _

That was the place where Harry's mind seemed to reside most of the times since yesterday now and he had the bad feeling that it had already started the day before even, the child fearing that he were back in his cupboard instead of in the potions classroom, and not only during his dreams but in his wakefulness as well. There had been one or another comment the child had made that had made him frown, that had caused him to think that the boy might believe he were back in his cupboard. Just one or another short comment in the beginning, but it had become more frequent yesterday and now? Now the boy _definitely_ seemed to believe that he were back there and never mind what he, Severus, tried to tell him, it simply didn't work.

Resting his hand on Harry's forehead when the child started mumbling again, he rearranged the blankets around him and murmured soft words of comfort and reassurance, hoping that the child might catch them in his sleep, and like each time before his son drifted off again within minutes.

He rested his hand on the pale forehead for another few moments, studying the pale and worn face of his son. Although asleep once more at the moment, Harry twitched and mumbled, too low for him to really make out the words, but his expression, his twisted face, the deep lines around the child's sunken eyes and around the small nose, around the edges of the boy's tightly clenched lips betrayed the unpleasantness of his dreams.

And yet – as much as he disliked his son being in such an amount of terror in his sleep, he couldn't help thinking that this was better than the moments when he suddenly lay completely still, his breathing so shallow that Severus couldn't help hurrying towards his son, anxiously placing his hand on the boy's chest, checking his pulse, his heart, his breathing, fearing it wouldn't be there anymore – because only a corpse could lie so still.

And he had done that for several times this past hours now.

But – was it better for the child? Or was it better for _him_? And was it better for the other students?

They all had become very silent since Harry was so restless and yet unresponsive at the same time, more sleeping than anything else – weak and close to death, and they all turned worried faces towards them, holding their breaths, whenever he, Severus hurried over to the child to check his vital signs whenever Harry became so still.

So – his more restless sleep definitely reassured the other children just as well as him, Severus, were they yet able to see that their friend was still alive. But was it better for the child himself as well?

No – for the child himself a peaceful sleep surely would be better and it only was selfish of them to wait for signs of distress just to ease their own fears.

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Once again Harry stirred on his mattress and this time he actually struggled to open his eyes, slowly, squinting them despite that the light of the two candles and the fireplace was not really bright. It nevertheless seemed to hurt his eyes and the low moan that escaped his lips made Severus hurry over to him.

"Sorry." He immediately mumbled, trying to sit up.

Of course Severus knew why the boy apologized. It wasn't the first time since the past few days that the boy apologized upon his, Severus', quick approach and he knew that the child felt guilty for causing him to give so much attention.

"Do not be, and remain laying for a moment, you are too tired." Snape said, avoiding the word weak and placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder to prevent the boy from getting up.

It had been the Dursleys that had planted this into the child's mind, that he didn't deserve any attention, that he had to apologize for being ill and needing care – not that he ever had gotten any at his relatives. Bloody bastards!

Softly starting to run a wet cloth over the child's face he made sure to clean the boy's eyes carefully to get rid of the remnants of sleep before getting the potion for his eyes out of the pocket of his shirt.

"Look at me, Harry." Severus softly demanded and Harry quickly complied, amazed at the softness he found in Snape's voice as well as in his eyes, that was nearly startling if compared to just a few weeks ago when they would have seemed like a sheet of ice. The moment his vision cleared somewhat after Snape had applied drops of the potion to his eyes he however was startled at the fact that the Potions Master's eyes were red, as if …

"Dad?" He softly asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes, Harry?" The man asked while he wrung the cloth over the bowl of warm water and then took one of the boy's small and thin hands, running the cloth over the palm and the skeletal fingers.

"What … what's wrong, dad?" The boy asked and Severus could hear the worry in his son's voice – a voice that sounded as weak as the child looked like.

"Nothing." The Potions Master said while opening the boy's shirt, slipping it off the bony body and then running the wet cloth over the thin chest. "Nothing is wrong, child."

"But … but you … you look as if you've been crying." Harry said and Severus sighed at seeing the startled and frightened look on the child's face, at hearing the frightened tone in the child's voice.

"I have." He quietly admitted, running his hand over his son's face before cupping the bony cheek. "It has been a long time down here and it is taking a toll on all of us. I am worried about you and your imbecilic friends, and so – yes, even your evil git of a Potions Master has his times of weakness once in a while."

"That's scary." Harry whispered and Severus had to admit that – yes, most likely it was. They were used to him being harsh and hard, being tough and sarcastic, being strong and leading them, not being weak and admitting that he had been crying earlier.

"Yes, I can imagine." He answered, quietly, while he ran his hand beneath the child's shoulders, easily lifting the boy's upper body off the mattress so he could wash his back. "But I told you – no hiding our weaknesses, and that goes for me as well as it goes for you. I am no exception here. Drink."

A cup of warm water was thrust before his eyes and Harry gratefully took it, if only to have something to hold in order to steady his trembling hands – or at least _trying_ to steady them.

The older wizard that had become his father lifted a hand to caress his face, once again cupping his cheek before running his hand down his face in affection and love and Harry leaned into the warm and caring touch, realizing that as much as they had detested each other in the past – now Snape was one of the few people he ever would let touch him in any sort of way. Closing his eyes for a moment he enjoyed the feeling of his father's love washing over him, along the bond they had formed with each other throughout the past few days and he realized that the man was the only adult that really cared for him, that cared for him like any father would for a son.

After several minutes Severus turned him and slowly, almost carefully picked him up into his lap, allowing him to simply lean on his chest and shoulder, and even though with the knowledge that he was too old for being held like that, that he was a fourteen year old teenager and not a four year old toddler anymore, he couldn't bring himself to mind, relaxed back against the man holding him, enjoying the feeling of being held for once.

"No, you are not too old for being held by your father and I am here, Harry, whenever you need me." The older wizard said as if he had read his thoughts. "Never mind if for simply talking or for just holding you. I am here and I am not going anywhere, child. Alright?"

"Hardly." Harry whispered. "You're locked down here with us after all." And yet – it was amazing how much of a comfort that knowledge was.

Snape would be there. Snape of all people, but Snape would be there. Snape was always there. Even when he had been weak and recovering from the Dursleys' beatings, he had been busy consoling his fears that Harry hadn't even dared voicing aloud. He had been here and he would be here – until the end. It was a comforting knowledge. He would not have to die alone. Snape would he here with him, his father would be here with him.

And Snape didn't mind physical contact, didn't mind touching him, didn't mind holding him like a small child. He even had his father holding him in his arms when he was trying to get him to sleep. He didn't know what it was, but it probably was just the fact that he had a warm breathing body protecting him from the world, that made him falling asleep much quicker then.

The older wizard wrapped his arms around him once more, pulling him closer, and Harry closed his eyes, trying to go back to sleep. And even though Severus pretended to do the same, Harry knew he wouldn't fall asleep before him. He never did.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Seventeen little potions students

Were working on a potion

One forgot it was a teen

And left were only sixteen"

Neville murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular before he chuckled lightly, causing the Potions Master to lift his eyebrow at him while the other children were looking over at the boy, startled for a moment.

"You do know, Neville, that even a teen is able to brew a potion correctly if following simple instructions?" He drawled, his dark eyes piercing the child.

"I do, Si- … Severus." The boy stammered, large eyes blinking in shock over his own daring to actually call the Potions Master, their Professor, their most strict and harsh Professor even, by his given name. "But I never managed that."

"Only because you are too insecure, Neville." He said, frowning, walking over to the boy and watching him close for a moment.

He knew that he had been as unfair with Neville as he had been with Harry. The boy was more than just capable at herbology, and herbology was a subject that was a basis when it came to potions. He however had seen the boy for the first time, had seen him hesitating, had seen him watching him terrified, and had listened to his nervous stuttering and he had immediately disliked the cowardice the boy had displayed, sneering at the fact that this boy had been sorted into the house of the lions when he had fit better into Hufflepuff.

He however never had thought about the fact that Neville had been raised by Augusta Longbottom, a very harsh and demanding woman who looked upon her son and her daughter-in-law with proud, that saw them as heroes, expecting the same from their child, her grandson – from a child that had been a baby only when his parents had been tortured into insanity and then ended up at St. Mungo's, a child that of course could not live up to the woman's expectations.

And so – whatever Neville had been doing, it never had been good enough in Augusta Longbottom's eyes. He knew, because he knew Augusta Longbottom.

The no-nonsense woman was one he always had respected and therefore he had visited her once in a while, whenever she had invited him for tea, and so he had witnessed it first hand that – in her opinion – the boy was late in learning speaking, was too insecure when learning walking and was too messy when learning eating by himself.

He never had considered it before, but of course he would grow up insecure because too much had been expected of him too early, because he always had been compared to his parents that had been war-heroes – maybe he should have a word with the woman the moment they were out of these dungeons.

If they ever got out, that was.

"You will see that after this here is over and we are back to brewing potions in a regular class, you will be able doing so, Neville." He quietly said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I will help you with that, and I will not berate you. I won't be gentle and I guess we both know this. It is a dangerous subject after all and there is no place for gentleness, not to mention that I am a harsh and strict man to begin with, but I will help you, I promise.

Well, the smile he got from not only Neville, but from Harry as well – it was worth his efforts it would take helping this particular boy brewing a decent potion in future lessons.

"Sixteen little potions students

Were taking out their cauldrons

One thought the Master was too mean

And left were only fifteen"

Lifting his eyebrow the Potions Master looked over at Harry who – _smirked_ at him! And it definitely was a smirk that was worth a Snape! Bloody brat! As weak as he had become over the past few days, he definitely seemed _too_ comfortable in his presence as it seemed, he would have to remedy that the moment they were out of here!

But well – the boy made fun and that was worth being the aim of the fun. The boy made fun and still partook in the other children's actions, even while laying on his mattress, leaning with his back against the pillows he had gathered from the other mats while they were not occupied. The child still made fun – and so his scowl he showed the boy was only a half-hearted scowl. Because if the child still made fun and partook in fun the others made, that still meant that he had some strength left? Didn't it?

At the same time however he knew that – it was a moment only, a short moment that could be, _would_ be, over in a few minutes, a short moment of strength, a short moment, one of the few short moments which would come lesser and lesser.

"Fifteen little potions students

Were taking out their books

Over her desk one did lean

And left were only fourteen"

"Hmm." Severus made, watching Pansy with amusement in his dark eyes. "I will have you changing seats with – let me say Hermione, Miss Parkinson, that will prevent you from leaning over your desk to chat with Miss Bulstrode in my class."

"What?" The girl asked him, startled. "But then I would have to pair with Weasley! I do well together with Tracy! You can't …"

"Can I not, Pansy?" The Potions Master smirked. "Try me."

"Fourteen little potions students

Were taking out their things

One of them did chew a Bertie Bott's Bean

And left were only thirteen"

Of course it was Vincent Crabbe who thought about food even when it came to rhymes about potions. He however had to admit that up to now they were quite creative in doing those rhymes, and they all seemed to see their own mistakes when it came to potions. Neville having trouble with any potions because of his insecurity, Harry having troubles brewing because he, Severus, had made his potions classes a living hell, Pansy making mistakes because she was chatting with Millicent in front of her and Vincent – well, as it seemed thinking of food while brewing. Maybe he should provide the boy with something to eat before potions?

"Thirteen little potions students

Were gathering ingredients

One took the wrong jar from the shelf

And left were only twelve"

Yes, that did sound like Seamus, he mused, the boy not simply adding the ingredients in the wrong order but taking the wrong jars from the cupboard in the first place. At least they all seemed to enjoy their newest game and even Harry smiled, a fact that made him happy somehow. The boy had little enough to smile about right now and if this rhyming made him happy, then be it. Maybe they all even learned something about it, as they seemed to really see their own mistakes when it came to brewing.

"Twelve little potions students

Were crushing on some leaves

One dreamed a bit too much of heaven

And left were only eleven"

Lavender Brown, definitely, yes! If there was a girl – hell, if there were _any_ student at all that was dreaming as much as this particular girl, then he would resign. Honestly!

Harry leaned close to, leaned with his back against his side while giving away a content sigh, and he draped his arm around the child's upper body, his lower arm resting above the child's thin and bony chest, pulling him close.

"Eleven little potions students

Were heating up their potions

One of them let fall in his pen

And left were only ten"

"That might teach you to use your quill instead of a muggle pen in classes, Dean." Severus said, smirking at the boy. He remembered, and he knew that the boy indeed _had_ let fall a pen into his potion once when he had been leaning over the cauldron, the pen slipping out of the pocket of his shirt. Aside from that it had been a pencil once, a rubber and a MP3-player. _That_ one had actually gotten a very interesting reaction – not only from the potion that had exploded violently, but from the boy as well as this particular device apparently had been very important to him, the boy ending up in detention for not only being so careless but for cursing strongly as well.

"I can't write with a quill, sir." The boy argued, looking at him with a shaking of his head. "You wouldn't be able to read what I've written."

"Did no one ever show you how it is done properly?" He asked with a frown.

"Uhm … not really, no." The boy frowned at himself now.

"Minerva does not hold writing classes for the first year muggle born or muggle raised students?" He asked, his voice incredulous now.

"No … not really:" Dean said, still frowning at him and Severus looked over at Harry, suddenly understanding the boy's messy handwriting – and the little fact that no one had ever noticed that the boy had never learned how to write properly in a school. Because Harry too never had learned how to write with a quill – and neither had Seamus Finnigan, as it seemed, this boy's handwriting too drove him mad sometimes.

"We will have to remedy that." He said and it was clear that it was not a suggestion but an order. "The moment we are out of here, you – as well as Seamus, Harry and Ronald – will visit my office each Saturday morning for writing lessons until you have improved your handwriting." He then added, causing the mentioned boys to groan in frustration and he smirked.

"I'm not muggle born or muggle raised." Ronald immediately protested.

"No, Mr. Weasley, but your handwriting is worse than that of a muggle born or muggle raised student even." He answered back with a smirk still on his face.

"Ten little potions students

Added a bit water

One forgot to add the wine

And left were only nine"

Yes, once again it had been an incident that really had happened, Tracy – obviously – thinking the wine on the list of ingredients he had written on the board had been a joke – as if he ever made jokes when it concerned potions – and _not_ adding the glass of wine. Well, she hadn't been so wrong actually, as the confusing and befuddlement draught that required the glass of wine – aside from the lovage, sneezewort and scurvy-grass – indeed _had_ been invented from a few Potions Masters that had been not really sober anymore and out of a joke. And yet – the wine in the potion was part of it and so it had been listed.

"Nine little potions students

Were stirring in a cauldron

One forgot to stir once right

And left were only eight"

Again, it was correct, Daphne mostly having problems with the stirring. Her potions were nearly perfect for the most time, a sign that the ingredients – all of them – had been added in the correct order, and only the slightly wrong colour of the potion proof of incorrect stirring, missing one or two right stirs between.

"Eight little potions students

Were careful with their steps

One did miss a tiny event

And left were only seven"

"Not quite a rhyme Ronald, but correct nevertheless." Severus fixed the red-haired boy with his dark eyes. "You definitely know where your mistake lies, so you should be able to prevent it in future."

"I just can't remember which step I have completed and then I'm mixing them up." The boy quietly said, averting his eyes.

Weasley had changed, he had to admit this. The boisterous boy had become rather silent, often thinking, watching Harry, Draco, Theodore and Neville, as if he wished to be a part of the quad.

"Then maybe in future you should copy the formula from your book before potions classes, Ronald, as I always announce the potion that will be brewed in the next class – because I expect you reading through the next chapter so you can be prepared for my class. This way you will be able to cross out each step you have completed already."

"Yes, sir." The boy mumbled. "I'll do that."

"See that you do, Ronald." He nodded at the boy.

He didn't quite like the downcast behaviour the boy showed since the past few days, it was not Weasley's way, acting like a shy and silent child, it was neither Weasley's way. The Weasleys _were_ loud and boisterous, all of them, and especially Ronald and the twins. Even though he had to admit that the twins _could_ be very quiet if they wished to. But Ronald Weasley? Well, he guessed that as the youngest boy in the rather large family, he had to be loud and boisterous to get enough attention from their parents that had all their hands full with his older brothers – and the youngest and only girl in the family.

"Seven little potions students

Had troubles with the moonstone

One took the moonstone as a mix

And left were only six"

Again – definitely a Patil. Parvati as well as her sister Padma having troubles with preparing some ingredients and using already prepared mixes – what did not mess up their potions but got them a mark down as he expected his students to actually prepare their own ingredients instead of using the already prepared mixes.

"Six little potions students

Were cutting on some roots

One held wrong his sharpened knife

And left were only five"

Watching Theodore closely he lowered his head to one side. He knew exactly why Theodore held his knife the wrong way, but he had not thought that the boy would admit this here in front of the class where the others might ask questions. He rather had thought that Theodore might comment on his – _ability_ – to add the ingredients in the wrong order, but not this. He looked over at Harry for a moment, knowing that Harry too held the knife in a strange way, even though he handled the knife more securely and more skilled than any of his seventh year students even. Not so Theodore, the boy often cutting his fingers in the attempt to cut the ingredients while barely daring to touch the knife.

Well, Harry was already beyond those experiences, he thought for a moment, all the tiny scars on his fingers being proof of how often he had cut his fingers while using a knife to cook for his relatives, but it seemed a long time ago and he had learned out of it, it seemed.

"Five little potions students

Were mixing on some powders

One mistook the salt for flour

And left were only four"

Frowning he looked over at the girl.

"I do not remember a potion in which you would need flour, Millicent." He said.

"No, but once I wanted to bake a cake for mum and I accidentally took salt instead of floor." The girl answered. "Of course it was rather a slobbery mess instead of a cake in the end but mum said we could eat it nevertheless, we just would have to use spoons. Well, she did, and her face really was funny after tasting the – well, cake, that held about 300 grams of salt."

"I can imagine." Severus gave away a long and suffering sigh while the other children laughed at the imagination.

"And well – I do mistake ingredients that look similar." The girl shrugged.

"What in future will cause you to look closely and maybe to test the ingredient before you use it – within reason however, as some of them are poisonous if used separately."

"Four little potions students

Were stirring five times left

One of them that had to pee

And left were only three"

"You are not serious about this, Blaise." Severus frowned, but at the blush that crossed the boy's face he knew – the teen indeed _was_ serious about it and if he thought about it, then he noticed that the boy was the one student that used the bathroom the most since they were down here, even getting up at least tree or four times during the night to use the bathroom.

"We will have a serious conversation about trusting and informing your head of house of any maladies, diseases or other troubles." He growled, piercing the boy with a sharp look. "You, as a student of my house should know very well to _not_ keep such information from me. Before you go to sleep tonight, you will come to me so I might provide you with a potion that will help and the moment we are out of here and able to run diagnostics I will do just this. Idiot child! We could have found a solution years ago!"

"Yes, sir." Came the soft reply, the boy hanging his head.

He wasn't rally angry at him. There were more than just this one student in his house that – despite his threat of punishment if they hid their troubles from him – did just this. And upon finding out he worked on a solution and then – and _just_ then – gave them detention or an essay to write, mostly about trust, playing with their own health or disobeying his orders, regarding on what exactly had caused their disobedience on this particular rule.

And in Blaise's case – it simply had been thoughtlessness, he knew. So he would have him in detention as soon as they were out of here and the children – all of them – were better, were healthier, had gotten some sleep and food, and fresh air and sunlight.

Which they maybe never would have, he thought with another sigh.

"Three little potions students

Were reading in their books

One had not the slightest clue

And left were only two"

He wasn't sure if Gregory was going on to safe Blaise from further threats or if he just went on because he had thought of a rhyme himself, but the boy did and again it fit the situation, as Gregory never had any clue when it came to potions and again Severus Snape let out a long and suffering sigh at the thought that there actually were some students in his – _his_ house, that were as idiotic when it came to potions as were …

Alright, this wasn't fair. He already had realized that Neville and Harry had troubles in his class with a reason.

"Two little potions students

Were turning down the heat

One thought of those that were now gone

And left was only one"

Leave it to Hermione to be so Gryffindor and to suffer over her missing friends to a point where even she would mess up with a potion, he huffed, and he looked down at one of her friends that – right now – was leaning against his side. Sleeping. Harry had fallen asleep at one point or another while all of them had done their rhymes, and he smiled.

If he liked it or not, but he had to admit at least to himself that – yes, it felt good having the child leaning against his side, seeking a bit of comfort, cradling his arm he had draped over the boy's chest to hold him close in his arms. If only he got his arm back later.

"One little potions student

Felt so very lonely

It called back the others keen

And left were once more fourteen"

"Why would you want all those imbeciles back, Mr. Malfoy?" He asked with a smirk, knowing that the Malfoy heir rather liked working alone than in a group.

"I've grown close to them over the days, uncle Severus." The blond shrugged.

"Have you now?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow and with a smirk he watched them all for a moment. "Well, in this case –

One little potions student

The last one in the classroom

The Master asked what they had done

And then there were left – none"

Smirking he looked back at Draco who rolled his eyes before leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs in front of him.

There weren't many chairs left, barely enough for all of them to sit down at the table and most of them simply stayed at the mattresses. They had burned the chairs, one by one, as they had burnt the desks and even parts of the shelves. Those who had held the books that now were stacked on the floor beside the shelves that held ingredients.

So – there only were the two tables left they had put together and his desk, and there only were about six chairs left around their table and the one behind his desk. Nothing else and the classroom nearly looked bare. Soon there wouldn't be any wood left at all, at least if he still would manage chipping the remaining furniture with the small hand axe he kept in his private store room, Snape realized and he carded his hand through Harry's hair, knowing that it would get really cold then, knowing that October was nearing and with it cold nights down here in the dungeons.

And yet – this wasn't their main problem. Because still there was nothing else left either, no food, not enough potions or potions ingredients to brew what they needed and the only thing they had plenty of, was water. And that wouldn't be enough in the long run, that alone would not keep them alive, he knew. So – in the end, they most likely would not survive long enough to die of the freezing temperatures down here anyway, they would die of lack of food long before that.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_he's dying, isn't he?  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	27. he's dying, isn't he?

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_And yet – this wasn't their main problem. Because still there was nothing __else left either, no food, not enough potions or potions ingredients to brew what they needed and the only thing they had plenty of, was water. And that wouldn't be enough in the long run, that alone would not keep them alive, he knew. So – in the end, they most likely would not survive long enough to die of the freezing temperatures down here anyway, they would die of lack of food long before that._

**Chapter twenty-seven**

**Day twenty-one **– **Sunday, twenty-second of September**

**He's dying, isn't he?**

Sitting onto the mattress Severus Snape gently reached out to take hold of the thin body of his son laying there, and knowing that the boy would be in no state to turn or sit up by his own, nor that he would be able to stay upright by his own without being held, he gently lifted the fragile body on bony shoulders, inwardly cursing at the fact of how little he weighted while bones stuck out at every angle. He carefully pulled the boy into his arms, barely daring to take hold of the fragile limbs until he had him in a half laying half sitting position and then started trying to wake him.

He had the boy's head laying in the crook of his elbow while with his other hand he carded through the boy's hair, softly calling his name, but nothing happened. Neither did the child's shallow breathing change, nor did the weak heartbeat and placing his hand atop the bony shoulder he gently shook the frail body, his eyes trained on the thin and pale face.

Harry was pale beyond his liking, he had to admit, dark circles beneath the sunken eyes the only color aside from the pale lips that were a mixture of a barely recognizable red and blue, and the ghostly face with its sunken cheeks held lines that didn't belong there. Not into the face of any so young. But then – a face so young should not look like the face of a dead person either.

And still nothing happened, while at the same time he didn't dare shaking the boy more than he already had, afraid he could break the weak body, the bony limbs, and somehow he knew that the boy didn't have a chance anymore.

He had seen some of the Dark Lord's victims, after they had been locked away for weeks without food while being tortured, and he always had needed to bury his emotions behind his occlumency shields to keep from feeling the pain himself while trying to keep them alive somehow, trying to find a way to somehow free them – or to end their lives quickly if there was no chance of freeing them, if there was no chance of them surviving, to end their suffering quickly at least.

And Harry looked even worse.

That boy had been denied food for more than two month while being with his relatives during the summer holidays, while he'd had to work himself into exhaustion, while being beaten day, for day, for day. Twice a weak he had gotten a slice of old and dry bread – if he had been lucky – and now he was down here for three weeks more without any real food. Actually – without _any_ food since a much too long time now.

The other children, they all were to die down here one day soon, Draco, Theodore, Tracy and Parvati being the first of them, he already could see _them_ too getting weaker and weaker, but Harry had never had a chance in the first place and he wondered _how_ the boy had been able to survive until now, to keep up his stubbornness and to decline death while he at the same time dreaded that particular moment like nothing else. All the others were down here since three weeks but Harry had been locked away and starved for nearly three months now.

**Flashback**

_"No one will be able to take you away from me now." He seriously said._

_"Only death." Harry whispered, and he turned towards the boy, took both his shoulders into a harsh grip and peered down into the pale face of his son._

_"Yes." He said, his voice rough. "Only death, but I won't allow this to happen, child, is that understood? I won't allow this to happen, and you will fight death with tooth and nail, is that understood?"_

_"Yes, sir." Harry answered, swallowing heavily at his determined words._

**End flashback**

This had been ten days ago, if he remembered correctly. Ten days ago – and Harry _had_ fought death with teeth and nails. Until now, until the boy simply couldn't fight anymore.

The others too were to die one day soon, but Harry would not make it through the night, he knew. He already had been too weak to get up alone or for long during the past days and he already had been too weak to really wake up for much longer than taking the relaxing potion and a few sips of water yesterday, to listen to the others yesterday. And suddenly Severus didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he felt utterly helpless and desperate.

He had seen people suffering from pain and hunger caused by the Dark Lord, he had seen people dying because of hunger and thirst, and he had seen people being tortured to death. He had handled dying people, had tried to keep them alive if possible and he had ended their suffering with a quick potion when it was clear that they wouldn't survive anyway.

But now he didn't know what to do. Now he didn't know how and where to take hold of the boy without breaking the skeletal body, and now he didn't know how to ease the child's suffering while at the same time he simply couldn't end it either. He knew that the boy would not survive the night and he knew that the child was in pain, but he couldn't give him a potion that would end it quickly.

He _had_ one potion or another down here that would answer this particular purpose – but he simply _couldn't._

"Harry … child, I need you to wake up for a moment to take some potions and to drink some water." He quietly said, running his trembling fingers over the teen's pale forehead. "Come now, you stubborn child. You can do it, wake up." But still the boy didn't wake up, still there seemed to be no response at all and worriedly he placed his hand on the boy's forehead, again noticing how cold the child was.

Taking his hand off Harry's forehead he carefully placed his hand back onto the shoulder that stuck out in a grotesque way, sighing with worry, not knowing what to do, how to get the boy awake and not knowing if he even should continue trying. Maybe it was better that way anyway. As long as the child wasn't awake, he wouldn't feel the pain hunger and cramps caused.

Slowly and carefully he lifted the boy's shoulders a bit more and slid his body behind his son so he could rest the boy's upper body against his chest and he didn't even notice anymore how naturally and easily he cradled the child against him while he took the vial with the herbal relaxing potion, one of the last ones they had left, and effortlessly he pulled the boy's lips apart, poured a few drops into the slack mouth, gently massaging the delicate throat until the boy had swallowed before again pouring a few drops more between the half-open lips.

A small, barely audible whimper was all the boy gave away together with a weak attempt to squirm for a moment and Severus wasn't sure if he really was awake or if he just reacted in his sleep.

"Hush, Harry." He whispered, not noticing anymore how desperate his voice sounded, but he surely wouldn't have cared, even if he had noticed. Not anymore. "I need you to swallow this potion to get you a bit warmer and therefore a bit more comfortable. I am sorry, child, but I do not have any pain potion left. I only have this herbal relaxing potion that should dull the pain at least some, and then I need you to drink as much warm water as you can."

He continued until the vial was empty and then took hold of the glass of water Vincent wordlessly was reaching over to him. It took him almost half an hour of painfully slowly feeding the boy with small sips of the potion and then warm water before the Potions Master allowed the boy that had woken at one point or another throughout the procedure to stop swallowing.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Twenty-one days – three weeks.

Three weeks without real food for seventeen children.

Twenty-one days – three weeks.

Three weeks without enough food to keep them all alive.

Twenty-one days – three weeks.

He wasn't a fool and as much as he wished that they would be still alive in the end, that they somehow would manage to survive – never mind how, that Severus somehow would manage to keep those children and himself alive, he knew that it simply wasn't possible. Yes, they might have had potions down there, they might have had potions ingredients down there as well, and they might have had water down there. But he also knew that most of those potions or potions ingredients would be poisonous and he knew that they had to share the few edible things between eighteen persons and he as well knew that it would be really cold down there meanwhile.

Not to mention that they had no contact to the outward world, that they had no fresh air, no sunlight, no …

No nothing.

"You're far off again, Albus." Minerva's soft voice beside him nearly startled him and he blinked for a moment before looking over.

"I'll resign when this school year is over." Filius on Minerva's other side sighed. "I still have found no way down there, to overcome those wards. Every day I think I am so close, but then …"

"Yes, my friend." Albus sighed. "I feel the same. I am getting too old for this."

"You should eat something, Albus." Minerva said. "The children are watching. They won't continue if we don't."

"I know." Albus sighed once more before taking his fork and starting to eat some of the vegetables on his plate. It was however more a shoveling from one side of his plate to the other than really eating.

"I've asked the ministry for a time-tuner again." He then said and Minerva looked over at him.

"You should have known that they wouldn't give you one. They haven't done so the last times you asked and you should have known that they wouldn't this time either." She said.

"I just _had_ to ask."

"I can understand." Pomona said. "Each time I go through the underground tunnels I think I am so close, but I simply can't find a way through them too. I thought that maybe with the devil snare's lead I would be able to … but well …"

"What do _you_ think, Poppy?" Filius dared the question they all had on their minds, they all asked at least once every day and the medi-witch sighed.

"I can't give you any other answer than last time." She then said. "Crabbe and Goyle might have a chance, as well as Longbottom, Tomas and Finnigan, maybe. But I fear that Malfoy, Nott and a few others had never had a chance in the first place. I fear that they have died a few days ago already. And the others, well, _if_ they are not dead yet, then they surely will not survive much longer, but I personally doubt that they are still alive."

No one commented on the fact that she didn't mention Harry. They all knew that he had died a few days ago, on September twelfth, ten days ago when the wards surrounding Privet Drive had fallen.

"We should seal this part of the dungeons at all." Albus finally said, his face showing the same horror as did his voice. "The ministry idiots are getting already impatient insisting that we do, and we should open a new potions classroom in one of the abandoned classrooms in the upper levels – and we also should hire a new Potions Master. But even if my life depended on it, I simply can't do this. I can't … it would be as if …"

"They're only getting impatient because on October the first Karkaroff and Maxime are coming with their students for this blasted tournament." Madam Hooch growled darkly. "I've been looking forward to this bloody tournament, but under the lights of recent events – I can't. They should call it off."

"They won't." Albus shook his head. "Not while the tournament is held here in Britain. Fudge is taking this tournament as a stepping stone to repair his reputation and to get back some glory and honor."

"Yes, but he's forgetting that the moment the other ministries find out that he held the tournament despite the resent events, despite having seventeen students dying in our dungeons, or being already dead, they would be horrified and they would turn their backs on him sooner than he would be able to say three-wizard tournament."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Noticing that the boy was back to sleep – or whatever sleep-like condition he was in – he leaned over and took the wet cloth from the bowl with warm water he had prepared and standing on the floor beside the mattress, wringing it with one hand, and then gently ran it over the small and ghostlike, bony face, trying to get rid of the dirt.

It had been five days now since he last had allowed Harry a shower, the boy simply being too weak for any strenuous actions. But they didn't have clothes to change, they didn't have soap left, they didn't really have a chance to keep the floor around the mattresses clean, not to mention the mattresses and the blankets and pillows themselves and despite the fact that Harry had washed every day, or that he – Severus – had done so the past two days now, meanwhile the dirt was clinging to the boy like ink to the wood of the desks in the classroom he had burnt by now to keep them as warm as possible.

Well, it simply was fruitless. This way he still would sit here tomorrow and the boy wouldn't be any cleaner, and for a moment he wondered if he really should dare taking the child to the shower. The boy was dirty, yes, as were they all, but Harry would die soon anyway. Would it make a difference if he would die being clean or if he died being dirty?

But then – he was a Potions Master and so he was a healer at the same time, not to mention that he was a spy and knew how to survive in the unlikeliest of situations, and so he also knew that in an extreme situation one had to regard his own body even more than normally, that a body that was dirty would die sooner than a body that was clean and cared for. He was a Death Eater that had watched the Dark Lord's victims in those blasted dungeons for long and often enough to know that one small cut could get infected easily if the body was dirty.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that his son would die long before any infection could get a hold on the already so weak body and that it wouldn't be worth it, risking the boy's last remaining strength he needed for simply keeping alive as long as possible by disturbing his little peace and dragging him to the showers. But at the same time he hoped that maybe – just _maybe_ – pulling the boy out of his lethargy would give him a push, and the urge to do all he could think of to keep the boy alive somehow, never mind how, was too overwhelming.

Because maybe – just _maybe_ – there would someone be coming today, even if in the back of his mind he knew that there would no one be coming to get them, that there wouldn't be someone coming anymore at all.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"And?" Montague asked when Warrington came into the great hall and sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Nothing." Warrington answered. "The Bloody Baron still can't find a way into the potions classroom, nothing new here."

"He was our last hope." Pucey answered in a near whisper. "Nothing worked. And the Bloody Baron was the one we hoped would get to them. He is a ghost after all! But it was a stupid idea and nothing else."

"It was a good idea, Adrian, and I am sure that Professor Snape would be very proud of you." Warrington, the sixth year's Slytherin prefect answered. "Don't blame yourself for something no one managed. You've had an idea and we tried."

"But it didn't work and Professor Snape and the others are still down there. Most likely dead and …"

"Calm down, Adrian." Montague said. "The ideas the others had, didn't work either. It's not your fault."

"But he was the only one who ever cared." The boy simply placed his arms on the table and hid his face in his arms. "He was the only one who always was there for us. No one else did." He mumbled into his arms, miserably, desperately.

"I know." Warrington said, not knowing if he could dare touching the boy's shoulder and wishing that Professor Snape were here to handle the situation, knowing that his head of house easily would manage. "But that only means that we have to stick together even more. All that Professor Snape taught us, it is there, Adrian, in our hearts and in our minds. And we do best honor him if we do what he taught us, what he expected of us and if we finish what he began. We will manage if we keep him in our hearts and on our minds."

"Cameron is right, Adrian." Montague said. "My grandmother always said, as long as we think about the dead, they are not really dead, as long as we don't forget them, they will live on within us, they're not gone then."

"But I want him _here_." Adrian sobbed nearly sounding stubborn and the other two boys shared a quick glance, knowing that it wasn't stubbornness but desperation and distress. They knew how important Professor Snape had been for them and they knew that Adrian trusted no one else than their head of house. They knew that Adrian was one of the children in their house that were mistreated at home and that the Professor always had been there for him.

They knew that they could talk to him, that they could bring the same arguments as Professor Snape had and that they even could take him into their arms, but it never would be the same. They could do their best, but they never would replace Professor Snape. They all loved the Professor, but there were some in Slytherin who _really_ _needed_ him, who wouldn't be able to go on without him. One was Draco and one was Theodore, and both were with him right now, maybe already dead. And another one was Adrian. The boy barely had slept since Professor Snape had been locked down in his classroom, he barely had eaten anything himself despite all reassuring words and even threats from Madam Pomfrey, and he nearly looked like a ghost himself by now, pale, thin and worn, exhausted, and the boy didn't even care for his own physical needs anymore, his hair greasy and dead, as dead as were his eyes that were underlined with dark circles in his pale face.

"I want him here." The boy repeated, whispered, openly crying by now. "I know that the others don't like him, but I _need_ him and I … maybe they're even glad that he … but …"

"Actually – no." A voice startled him and he lifted his head, looking into the two identical faces of the Weasley twins.

"None of them should be down there." The other twin said, for once looking serious.

Cameron Warrington was about to say something, to tell the Gryffindor twins that they should piss off and leave them alone, but then he looked closer at them and inclining his head he waved his hand at the bench opposite them, wordlessly telling them to sit down onto the bench on their table. They looked as worse as did Adrian and Greengrass. Adrian having a father figure down there, Greengrass having a sister down there, and the twins having a brother down there. So what? Right now, was it so important what house they came from? Was it so important that they were Gryffindors? They all had friends down there, or a brother or a sister, or a father, at least _some kind_ of a father.

And they shouldn't forget that the Weasley twins had been some of the few who had not only said something about their own, their brother, but about Snape too, back then during the commemoration.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Vincent." He quietly said the boy's name and the boy looked up at him, tired and weakly, not getting up from where he was sitting, leaning against the wall, nor asking a question. They all had gone very quiet throughout the past two or three days, except of a few moments of quietly whispered conversations or making a joke to somehow get their minds at peace for at least a moment, and even if Vincent still was one of those who fared better, he too was weak and a shadow of his former self only.

"I need to shower Harry." He said. "Will you be able helping me with the towel while I handle him?"

Vincent simply nodded and wordlessly he got off the mattress, while Severus ran his free arm beneath the thin knees of his son and easily shifted the boy's body into his arms, carrying him to the bathroom.

"It's alright, Harry." He whispered at the soft sounds of distress the child in his arms gave away, and carefully he tightened his grip on the small body, distressed himself at how easy it was for him to carry the child despite his own weakness he clearly could feel meanwhile. "I am just going to give you a shower and I am sure you will feel better afterwards."

"Don' wanna." Was all Harry managed to say in a weak voice and he sighed, pressed his lips together with a new determination. During the past three weeks the boy had proven himself capable of using eloquent language, but now he simply was too tired and exhausted doing so – or he had given already up.

'_What he most likely finally had.'_ This annoying little voice in the back of his mind said.

After sitting the child onto the bath mat, Vincent supporting the weak body of his friend, he took off his shirt and undershirt as well as his shoes, socks and trousers, only keeping his shorts on, and then started to undress his son who still was held upright by Vincent.

Under normal circumstances he never would have undressed in front of one of his students, not even his Slytherins, but this here was no normal situation, normality had left them a long time ago, and he simply knew that Harry wouldn't be able to take the shower himself, that he actually would have to shower the boy. He also knew that in the end they all would be dead in a few days anyway, and so – be it, Vincent didn't look at him anyway but at the startling thin body of Harry.

Shivering in the coldness of the dungeons bathroom he cradled the skinny boy to his chest and simply stepped under the shower, opening the tab and for a small moment he relaxed when the warm water hit the cramped muscles of his shoulders and back. It was a small moment he allowed himself before he gently started running a cloth over the child's body.

What however really scared him was the fact that the boy didn't object as he had thought he would, that he didn't complain at the discomfort or tried to get away, back to the comfort of the mattress, of laying down and resting, but that the child just gave away soft sounds of discomfort, that the boy just made small and weak movements of discomfort while he washed the dirt off his son's body, weak announcements without even using words that he was not comfortable, that he did not like this, that he wanted to be back at his mattress, closing his eyes, going back to sleep and nothing else.

Realizing that Harry held his breath beneath the jets of water while he washed his face and realizing that with his hurt lungs he probably wouldn't be able to hold his breath very long without being in pain, he simply turned the child over so that his face was shielded from the jets of water by his, Snape's, body and immediately he noticed the boy in his arms starting to relax, the stiff muscles going softer a bit, the boy finally leaning against him while nearly enjoying the sensation of the warm water hitting his back, working on his aching muscles and washing the dirt away.

Well – he still didn't know if it had been a wise decision, but even if it had not, that one small moment of enjoyment the boy right now had … well, no … it would _not_ be worth it and he knew it, but he himself felt a moment of peace nevertheless at the thought of the boy relaxing.

A moment of peace however that was gone soon, the moment he realized that the strain of the shower definitely _had_ been too much for the child that went limp in his arms, so slowly it nearly happened in slow motion while his breathing became slower and all remaining strength seemed to leave the already weak body that in the end hung in his arms.

For a moment his own heartbeat threatened to stop and he felt horror washing over him, horror he only once had felt in his life, when he had reached Godric's Hollow and had found Lily's dead body in Harry's nursery, for that short moment he wasn't able to breathe, to move, to think or to do anything else than standing there and watching the child's breathing going slower and slower, weaker with each breath he took while the green eyes that had become haunted for a moment became dull and accepting.

But then reality came back and he gritted his teeth, ran his arm behind his son's knees, and he lifted him up while stepping from the shower and kneeling onto the bath mat, Harry still in his arms, limp, his body slipping to the side in his arms before he could stabilize the small and skeletal body of the child.

"The towel." He quietly addressed Vincent with a voice so calm he wondered wherefrom he took this calmness and he wrapped the small body into the large towel that Vincent reached over, that seemed to swallow the thin form that rather looked like a small child right now than like a fourteen year old boy, lost and weak.

For one fleeting moment Harry had struggled once more when he had pulled him into his arms, had knelt onto the bath mat at the floor, as if pulling together his last strengths for one last time, but then the boy had stopped his feeble struggling again, only curling in on himself in his arms, folding his thin arms to his chest, again so slowly it seemed to happen as if in slow motion, bending even his wrists as if trying to curl his hands in, into the ball he had become, as if trying to somehow getting comfortable and for another moment he watched in horror, unable to move, while he was reminded of a spider that folded its limps in death.

But again reality came back and he took the edges of the towel and carefully ran them over the wet skin of the child that wasn't able anymore to keep his balance even in this half laying position and held by him, Severus, drying the boy while Harry himself again did not fight him, just lay there in his arms, staring ahead with unseeing eyes, his breathing still getting slower and slower, meanwhile pausing between each already weak breath he took, his eyes open but unfocused – and still so damn accepting.

He knew that the sensation of the towel running over his weak body most likely was uncomfortable, knew that in such a state the skin was oversensitive and that each touch with something as rough as the towel was, could hurt, but the boy simply endured it, too weak to complain about it, too weak to try and flee the touch, his head still just laying in the crook of his elbow, weakly resting, as if the child didn't even seem to notice his pain anymore.

And still the teen's eyes were open, open but unfocused, unseeing – and accepting.

'_He is slipping away from me.' _He desperately thought for a moment, his eyes feeding on the pale face of the boy that had become his son, that had become a person he so deeply cared for – it hurt.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Vincent whispered, horrified, handing the second towel to the older wizard so he could dry the boy's hair, knowing how important it was that they got dry quickly down here, especially Harry. Well, Severus had told them often enough that they had to towel themselves quickly and entirely after the shower, that it was too cold down here for being wet, that they could catch a cold or even a lung infection if they didn't and that _that_ only would worsen their situation then, could cause their deaths.

"He will _not_ die." Snape stated after a moment, but what he really meant was _'I will not let him.'_

"Hold him." He managed to say, reluctant to release the child, his son, but knowing that he couldn't dress while holding the child and then he stood and quickly slipped into his clothes, not caring that he still was wet as there were only the two towels Harry was wrapped in right now. Even if he caught a cold now, he still would survive long enough to be there for the other children as long as they remained living.

They would die _before_ him even if he had caught a cold now.

Once more he gently ran his hand over Harry's forehead, but then he quickly started dressing the child before he would lose his nerves and then he cradled his son into his arms, carried his child back to the classroom and the mattresses and gently laid him down, covered him with both, the boy's and his own blanket so he could lay down and rest. He knew that he himself should get at least his hair dry, but he simply couldn't bring himself to go and leave Harry behind, not sure if the boy would be still alive the moment he came back.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

_"__Brown, Lavender … Bulstrode, Millicent … Davis, Tracey … Granger, Hermione … Greengrass, Daphne … Parkinson, Pansy … Patil, Parvati … Crabbe, Vincent … Finnigan, Seamus … Goyle, Gregory … Longbottom, Neville … Malfoy, Draco … Nott, Theodore … Potter, Harry … Thomas, Dean … Weasley, Ronald … Zabini, Blaise … Snape, Severus. Eighteen names, seventeen students and one teacher, seven girls, ten boys and one man, ten Slytherins and eight Gryffindors. You can name it with hundreds of terms, but one fact remains – eighteen souls are in those dungeons of Hogwarts, dying or already dead, and our minds are with them."_

"Turn this bloody radio off!" Cederic Diggory growled.

"What?" Ernie Macmillan asked. "Why? I want to hear what they have to say."

"We have heard enough." Cederic answered, simply turning the wireless wizarding radio off. "We don't have to hear their names, we already know them and if you want to hear any more, then do it in the dorm. It is bad enough thinking about them. They're no Hufflepuffs, but they're our friends and schoolmates nevertheless. I don't want to hear more of the shit they're talking. There's no proof yet that they're dead."

"There's no proof yet that they're alive still _either_." Ernie growled turning the radio on again.

_"__More than thousand words of …"_

"Maybe not." Cederic said, turning the radio off again. "But I refuse to simply give up hope. The crap those idiots from the wireless are talking is destroying each and every hope one of us might have left and if you turn this damn, bloody and _shitty_ radio on once more while being here in the common room, then I simply will blast it apart."

"You can't tell me what to do, Diggory! You're no prefect"

"No, he is not." Kevin Summers said. "But I'm one. And I say this radio stays off. Cederic is right. Some of us have still some hope left, especially the smaller ones and I won't allow this small hope being destroyed by those idiots that are holding funeral speeches and words of mourning. We do not need them to remember our schoolmates and friends."

"But I want to know more." Ernie shook his head, stubbornly, clenching his hands into fists and Summers could see that he didn't want to simply rant, but that he simply handled this situation in his own way. Some of them needed to have their peace from such reports, some of them needed the presence of others right now, some of them needed to be alone, and some of them just needed each and every information they could get.

"I do understand that you want to hear what the wizarding world has to say, Macmillan, but then do it in your dorm or gather others with the same need together and go to the library or the great hall. I however won't allow you to destroy the hopes of those who still have hope left. Did I make myself clear?"

"But I don't want to leave." The younger boy said. "This is my common room too."

"Do not force me to take house points, Macmillan." Summers said. "As I said, I can understand your need and I don't want to take points from you for that, but I have to take care of _everyone_. Take those with you who want to listen to the wireless too, but you won't do it here. And that is final!"

Well, five students out of the nearly forty that were present at the moment left the Hufflepuff common room and went to the Library, the rest stayed, quietly doing homework, playing chess, reading a book or discussing in hushed voices, trying to forget for a moment before night would come and they would be haunted by nightmares again.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Ron watched Snape carrying Harry back into the classroom, wrapped in his cloak, watched him placing him onto the mattresses and laying beside him, covering him not only with Harry's blanket but with his own as well, and he somehow knew what the man felt and he felt ashamed of himself suddenly.

Even now, after three weeks Snape had cared for them – Snape of all people – had kept them alive, had comforted them, had talked to them, had provided them with whatever edible things he had found down here, with potions, and he still had not trusted Snape, he still had thought of him as an evil and cold bastard, had _hated_ him.

But now the Potions Master's pain, his emotional pain, was so clearly written in the normally so harsh and indifferent face, he actually was startled – and frightened. The man nearly cried, for Merlin's sake! And suddenly he realized that he was frightened because Snape was frightened and suddenly he knew that Snape's indifferent mask, his coldness and his sarcasm, his strength, had kept them strong and suddenly he wondered if _that_ was the reason Snape always seemed so cold and uncaring, one of the reasons at least, and suddenly he understood – and felt miserable at that realization.

_Snape's_ lack of fear had kept the fear from _them_, as far away from them as possible at least, while he, Ron, had hated the man for it. While Snape had done nothing else than shoving his own emotions aside so he could give them strength.

And now Harry was about to die. He knew it. Yesterday he had already known that Harry would die and he had tried to get clear with the thought, had reminded himself that they all had known that this moment would come. Inwardly he even wasn't sure if it wasn't the best for Harry anyway. Harry had been so much worse than the rest of them, and the past few days he had seen how Harry had suffered, from pain and cramps and nausea and other things, while he still had fought, had refused to give up.

He hated himself for it, but somehow the knowledge of Harry dying comforted him while he at the same time was frightened. He didn't really want Harry dying! Harry was his friend! And even if he hadn't been able to understand why he had chosen Snape as his father, he had accepted it in the end because it had been what Harry had not only wanted but _needed_ as well. And he had made it up to Harry and they were friends again. So no – he didn't _want_ him dying. But he didn't want him suffering anymore either.

He knew that it wasn't right of him to secretly hope that Harry finally would die so he wouldn't have to suffer any longer, but he just couldn't help it and he hated himself for it just as much as he hated himself for hating Snape for so long while the man had done nothing than – in his own way – helping them through the past three weeks, comforting them – in his own way. And it had worked, so what? Snape had even become more civil, talking to them, joking with them even, _so what_?

And now the Potions Master seemed so scared and in so much pain while he watched Harry, carded his fingers through Harry's hair with a kindness he never would have believed him possible and he realized how deep that normally so cold and harsh man cared for Harry.

"He's dying, isn't he?" He asked, not knowing that he asked the same question Vincent had asked just a few moments ago and Snape looked up at him, and for a moment he couldn't breath at the pain in those normally so cold and harsh black eyes.

"I do not know, Ronald." Snape softly answered in his deep and velvet voice after a moment during which he seemed to consider his answer. "I wish I could say no, but I cannot."

Hesitatingly he reached over and for a moment he halted his hand before taking Harry's hand in his, not knowing if he had the right doing so as he secretly wished he finally would die. Surely he wouldn't have the right to touch him anymore. No one wished for his friend to die, not even in such a situation. He should wish that he lived on and on. To wish someone death, especially his friend, simply was wrong.

"Do not hesitate taking your friend's hand, Ronald." He heard Snape saying, his voice sounding as pained as his eyes looked. "And do not blame yourself for wishing that his suffering might end finally. It is a normal human reaction to seeing a friend suffer so much and he might be comforted by your touch."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Apparating to the address in the outskirts of London Vence and Gordon had given her, she now stood in front of a small house. It was a _really_ small house, nothing compared to Lucius' large manor at Wiltshire in southwest England they had lived in, but she didn't care. It looked nice and it looked well cared for and it was far away from Lucius, and nothing else mattered.

She had packed only her most important things. A few clothes, a few books, her old school-trunk and a few personal items while she had left behind all her jewellery and the expensive robes and gowns she had gotten from Lucius over the years. But now she was here and finally she was free. She wouldn't go back, ever.

Lucius had jeopardized Draco's life, had caused him to suffer a slow and horrible death. She didn't even know if her son still was alive. And why? Just because of his stubborn, stupid bastard of a husband that had …

"Cissy!" Gordon had opened the front door and he took her shoulder, and after a quick embrace he pulled her inside. "Vence is already waiting, and believe me, he is worse than a mother hen right now, pacing the parlour since hours."

"I'm sorry I let you wait." She said. "I had to wait until Lucius was asleep on the sofa. I just didn't dare leaving the manor while he was awake. I of course can pass the wards without starting an alarm, but if he had seen me …"

"Don't worry, Narcissa." The deep voice from Vence was heard and she turned, smiled at the other man who quickly came into the hallway and pulled her into a quick embrace too, just like Gordon had done earlier.

"Are you sure that …" She started, looking unsurely at the two men and immediately Vence scowled at her.

"Would we have asked you to come and live here if we weren't?" The man asked. "And now be silent, you stupid woman and sit down. I have tea ready and then we will discuss your protection."

"I don't care about my protection, if I just had Draco …"

"Don't go down this lane of thinking, Narcissa." Vence growled. "I do not know if our children are still alive, but if there is any chance for them, then it is with Severus. We will wait until we have news of them and we will go on from there on then. It won't do any good if your son survives just to find his mother dead because she did not care for her own protection! Gordon is setting the wards for now and then we will have tea, and now calm down, Narcissa, we will do what is possible."

"Look who's talking!" Gordon said, coming back to the parlour. "A few moments ago _you_ have paced the parlour like a mother hen missing one of her chicken."

"You know what Lucius can be like." The other man growled darkly. "And if he had seen Narcissa leaving …"

"Cissy is here now." Gordon said. "One thing less to worry about and now we better focus on getting our children out of there. Right now I am waiting for a book I ordered from Flourish and Blott's. It's ancient magic, but _not_ dark magic and it is promising."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He barely registered anything around him.

Somehow, in the background of his awareness he could feel the pain in his stomach and in his limbs. And he could feel the strange sensation of barely being able to move, of being too weak to move. He somehow could feel the coldness and that he had damp hair, but again it was just out of his reach somehow. All of these things he registered only somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, and as strange as it seemed to him, he somehow didn't even mind.

What he however _did_ mind, but what he couldn't change and what he couldn't understand either, was the pain he felt coming from Severus. And he knew that it wasn't physical pain, he wouldn't be able to feel _that_. He knew that it was emotional pain. He couldn't explain why he knew this and he couldn't explain why he could feel it either, never before had he felt his father's emotions, but he knew that he felt them right now and he knew that it was emotional pain.

But then it was gone, as was the thought of it and he remembered their conversations, their games of seven lost and pawns and jacks, and he remembered their lessons down here. It had been a much better time back then. It had been his best time he so far had experienced, ever, he had to admit. He had been hungry, yes, but they all had been. And he'd had someone who'd cared, Severus had been there, had cared for him, had become his father even, and no one had beaten him while being hungry. They all had been friends back then, family.

Well, he would be back there again, and soon, he knew.

So, for now he just would enjoy being held by his father, leaning against the strong chest, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of his father's breathing and he simply would allow himself to dozing off every now and then while the rumbling vibration of the older wizard's deep, silky voice above him, softly talking to him, soothed him, even if he didn't understand the words.

Something wet touched his cheek and wondering what it was he slowly forced his eyes open and then focused on trying to look around with bleary eyes, trying to figure out his surrounding by the single candle that was burning in one of the candle-holders attached to the walls down here. Well, he knew that Severus had started to save the candles as well as the wood some days ago, a week ago maybe, or two weeks ago even, he didn't really remember, but he was sure that it wasn't important anyway.

Making out his father's face close by he slowly reached up with a shaking hand and hesitating for a moment, not knowing if he was allowed to touch the man, he softly placed his trembling fingertips at the Potions Master's cheek, startled to find tears running down the professor's face and for a moment he became aware of his surroundings, of the pain in his stomach and his limbs, of the horrible hunger he felt. But he didn't care. He simply had to know what was wrong with Severus so that the man cried. Severus Snape never cried! Severus never cried in front of him and he was scared, because if Severus openly cried, then surely it meant that it was something horrible that had happened.

Maybe one if them had died.

Draco, or Theodore.

They both had been so weak lately – as weak as he had been and …

But as much as he tried, he wasn't able to concentrate on the thought and he wasn't able to keep his hand up there on Severus' face, it fell down beside him, heavily, lifelessly.

Severus, having been deep in his own thoughts, in his worries, worrying about the boy he again held in his arms, knowing that the child that had become his son would not survive the night, didn't realize Harry watching him and the child's gentle touch broke the trance that had captured him. If only the boy survived, he thought, looking down at the child, at his son, and he gave a little half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He could tell that the boy had been awake since a while now, that he was tired and exhausted but in too much pain to go back to sleep, only drifting away every now and then while at the same time he wondered if the boy felt it.

The pain.

And the fact that he was dying.

"I swear, Harry Snape, if you die on me now after all I have done to keep you alive …" He whispered, but then he let the sentence drift off into silence without finishing it. There was no threat that worked against death, after all.

"You're angry." The boy whispered weakly and it was clear it wasn't a question but a statement and he couldn't help hitching his breath, his chest clenching in a way it hurt, physically – and it hurt horribly.

"Hush, child." He whispered while carding his fingers through the black mop of hair from the child still in his arms. "No, I am not angry. I am just so very sad. I do not know what you have done to me, child, so I feel this way, but I would do anything to keep you with me. I do not want to lose you. It hurts."

Never would he have admitted such in the past, absolutely never, but right now – he didn't mind. Right now he knew that he had to give the child this last comfort, telling him that he wouldn't die unloved, that he wouldn't die unwanted, telling him that he – he didn't know what, just that he had to make it as easy as possible for his child.

"I don't want to leave you either." The boy answered, his voice a whisper so soft with weakness he had to strain his ears to understand the words and he simply couldn't help the tears running down his face again.

If only the boy would survive the night. If only the boy would survive at all. If only the boy would be with him still when morning came – but he knew that never mind how much he wished – it would not be granted.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

_"__…__avender … Bulstrode, Millicent … Davis, Tracey … Granger, Hermione … Greengrass, Daphne … Parkinson, Pansy … Patil, Parvati … Crabbe, Vincent … Finnigan, Seamus … Goyle, Gregory … Longbottom, Neville … Malfoy, Draco … Nott, Theodore … Potter, Harry … Thomas, Dean … Weasley, Ronald … Zabini, Blaise … Snape, Severus. Eighteen names, seventeen students and one teacher, seven girls, ten boys and one man, ten Slytherins and eight Gryffindors. You can name it with hundreds of terms, but one fact remains – eighteen souls are in those dungeons of Hogwarts, dying or already dead, and our minds are …"_

_'If there is a word to describe the recent events that has Britain captured in its talon, then it is horror. But this time it is not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who is causing this horror, but an accident caused by those who once worked for You-Know-Who, by those who still believe in him, nearly thirteen years after his demise and this reporter wonders what kind of wizard and witches stood behind the attack, considering that they attacked a wizarding school, a school filled with innocent children. _

_It leaves no other possibility and one simply has to wonder if those attackers, those followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, are not to be equalized with simple muggle terrorists. Attacking a building that is filled with innocent people, children, teenagers, students, even risking the lives of their own children just to …'_

_"… afternoon the Ghost of Harry Potter had been seen in Diagon Alley, near Gringotts, what gives proof that those seventeen students meanwhile really are dead, starved to death at one point during those twenty-one days they had been locked down in the potions classroom now, the Boy-Who-Lived in the end brought down not by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but by a fate that is just as cruel. I personally think that most likely the boy ghost had visited Gringotts to settle his last affairs so he could rest in …"_

_'Many reports have been made on the 'tragedy of Hogwarts' and many of those reports have already predicted the death of those students locked in the dungeons classroom. We, from the Quibbler however are sure that at least some of those in the dungeons are still alive and we are with them in our thoughts._

_For one, even if they might not have real food, they have potions ingredients and they have unlimited water, what surely is a chance to keep them alive for some time. They might not have unlimited wood to keep the fire in the cold dungeons going, but they have at least water for a shower and for drinking. They might be desperate, but they have each other and we have faith in them, we believe in them, and we hope for them. They have a chance and we are sure that they are taking their chances, all of them._

_Professor Snape is a competent man with a lot of hidden abilities and we are sure that in such a situation he will not hesitate to do all that is necessary for keeping his students alive. With his calm demeanor he will be able to keep the children calm, something that surely will be very important in such a situation. He is known as a harsh man, what however will be to their benefit too, as …' _

_"… wizarding Britain. Never before __has anything kept the witches and wizards in such breathtaking grief and never before have reached so much letters our office, letters with condolences and sympathy while right now a delegation of the department of registration at the ministry of magic is discussing the subject of declaring today as the day of mourning for …"_

_'The tragedy of Hogwarts – a term that meanwhile surely is known by all wizarding people throughout Great Britain, a term that holds horror and shock, a term that promises death only. But no one can imagine the horror that really has taken place down in those dungeons of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, horror that __easily could stem from one of the books Notarius Consternare, the renowned author that is nominated as the best writer of horror fictions worldwide, has written._

_Trusted sources have informed us about the horror that happened in the hermetically isolated dungeons classroom, __have informed us about Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house from above mentioned school of witchcraft and wizardry and Potions Master, Death Eater, killing the Gryffindor students one by one to keep his Slytherin students alive while acquainting them to 'the art of cannibalism' as he had named it. A horrifying and disgusting way to …'_

_"… can imagine the pain and desperation all those are feeling. The funeral speech clearly had shown how much those witches and wizards hurt and how deeply they are affected by the tragedy of Hogwarts, not only the teachers having held their speeches but __numerous of the students as well. It had been a deeply moving afternoon that had been held until long into the night, more witches and wizards giving their words of condolences away than after any other tragedy before. Our reporters from WWN had been there and they have saved parts of the speeches for you to listen to in hopes that it might help easing the pain of all those who once have loved those they had now lost. Listen now to some of the speeches we have recorded and cut together for you …_

_Theodore __was more than just a student here at Hogwarts. He has been more than just a Slytherin and he has been more than just a … son. He has been a friend, and he has been my friend, a good friend, one that never has hurt anyone, not even those from other houses. He was a year younger than I and he didn't deserve this. And neither did any of the others … they … sorry … I'm … sorry …_

_Harry should be out at the pitch, flying right now. He should be sitting in the Gryffindor common room, smiling, laughing and joking with his friends right now, and he should worry about all the small and little things we all worry about, about homework, about girls, about his next class, about Quidditch, about what would be served for dinner, about how to fool some other students or teachers, about his first shaving, about a bad grade and about his first kiss or something like that. But he can't worry about such things anymore, because he … because he's dead. Because he had died and nothing can make this undone. And the same goes for all of them, for all the fourth year Gryffindors and for all the fourth year Slytherins. Harry was one of them, but they all had been robbed the chance to worry about those small and little things in life. They all had been forced to worry about their next meal, about being hungry and about being cold, about who would die first, and about how to survive. They all had …"_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"No, Misters Weasley, you will not. I right now expect you to keep from leaving your dormitory, and if I find one of you just near the dungeons, then you will be the first students ever getting to know my entire wrath." Flitwick said, his voice so strict they actually looked at the small charms teacher startled. They were not used to Professor Flitwick sounding so strict and commanding – and resolute.

"But that's _our_ potion and …"

"I do know this, and I also do thank you for your help but neither do we know if it will work, _how_ it will work, what exactly will happen the moment it explodes and comes into contact with my spells to bring down those wards, nor do we know … what condition we will find them in. I promise you, I will speak to you in the morning, and be assured that I personally will reward you, never mind the outcome, but right now we have work to do as it seems, and time is running short. Grammy! Please take the Misters Weasley to their dormitory and make sure that they keep their noses in there – as well as any other body parts of theirs! Thank you."

With those words a small house elf had appeared, had taken the two Weasley twins from the charms office and a moment later the small half human and half goblin professor had left the room, was running towards the headmaster on two small legs, cursing the fact that he couldn't apparate within Hogwarts and preparing himself for finding eighteen dead bodies tonight. Even though he wished that they wouldn't.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The room was dimly lit by a torch that was attached to the wall beside a door that led to another room and a small, dying fire, and it held an eerie silence, a silence that nearly was frightening, unnatural. It seemed to be a classroom of some sort, considering the shelves that were filled with books and jars with strange things, some of them pickled in different coloured liquids. Several other jars and books were lined and stacked along the wall and it was clear that at one point they had been sorted into shelves as well, shelves that now were missing.

The desktop of a table without legs was laying in the middle of the room, near the wall that led to the other room on the floor and atop the wooden board were laying pieces of parchments with numbers scribbled on them, abandoned, but it was clear that those parchments had been used at one point, most likely for playing a game of cards. A ball made of packing thread and a book was laying there too.

A book bag lay beside the tabletop on the floor and another book bag was leaning against the wall that led to the other room. Upon a closer look through the room more book bags could be found in corners, leaning against walls or laying on the floor, what confirmed the possibility that it indeed _was_ a classroom. A classroom that had been in use at one point but now was as abandoned as were the pieces of parchment, the ball made of packing threat, the book and the book bags that were scattered around.

What however did not fit into the picture of a classroom were mattresses that were laid out in front of the dying fire, mattresses with pillows and blankets, and huddled together under the blankets but clearly visible were bodies. Small and thin children's bodies, and the taller but no less thin body of one adult. A book lay on one empty mattress, open, but turned face down and the title that could be read was _'Seventh year potions instructions'_. None of the bodies under the blankets were moving and so it surely had to be in the middle of the night, as they looked as if they were just deeply in sleep instead of dead.

If you however looked closer around the room, then you could see the pale and ghostly shape of a small and scrawny black-haired boy, suddenly sitting on the floor beside the legless tabletop where just a second ago had been empty space, two pieces of parchment held in his nearly translucent hands, laughing lightly, even if his pale and thin face held some kind of pain, announcing that he had only two cards left, the voice of the ghost echoing through the room startling hollow as if this scene had happened in another time or space. The pale and thin shape of another boy, a blond one, sitting there also and just as suddenly, seemed to growl at the dark-haired boy, holding up his hand with at least five pieces of parchment.

You however better did not blink, because after the blink the picture of the two boys would be gone.

If you however looked very close again, then you could see the shadows of a few skinny children sitting on chairs around a table, six of them actually, being there just as suddenly as had been the two children before, and all of them were holding such pieces of parchments in their ghostly hands while chess pieces were laying in front of them on the table. As it seemed they were playing a strange game of cards and chess they had mixed together, and laugher could be heard, bright children's voices mixed together so it was impossible to understand the words that once again seemed to be an echo of some sort, grotesque in the otherwise eerie silence of the dimly lit and empty room, just as bizarre as the wraith-like shadows themselves were.

The shadowy shape of a tall figure came close, watching them for a while and you could see a small smile threatening to be shown on the pale and ghostly face, a small smile the adult man seemed to fight for a while before simply giving in and allowing his lips to curl upwards. The shape of the black-haired boy that sat in the midst of the ghostly children's group looked up at the man, smiling back at him and the pale hand of the adult reached over and gently carded its bony fingers through the boy's hair, causing bright but pale green eyes to sparkle with joy and bliss.

Upon another blink however the picture would be gone as well and all that would be left would be the dimly lit and cold classroom, with only the remnants of life being left behind like a memory and a single desktop of a table without legs laying in the middle of the room on the dirty and dusty floor.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_epilogue - how all of it ended  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this story and this chapter, thank you ...

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	28. interlude chapter

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_The shadowy shape of a tall figure came close, watching them for a while and you could see a small smile threatening to be shown on the pale and ghostly face, a small smile the adult man seemed to fight for a while before simply giving in and allowing his lips to curl upwards. The shape of the black-haired boy that sat in the midst of the ghostly children's group looked up at the man, smiling back at him and the pale hand of the adult reached over and gently carded its bony fingers through the boy's hair, causing bright but pale green eyes to sparkle with joy and bliss._

_Upon another blink however the picture would be gone as well and all that would be left would be the dimly lit and cold classroom, with only the remnants of life being left behind like a memory and a single desktop of a table without legs laying in the middle of the room on the dirty and dusty floor._

**Chapter ****twenty-eight**

**Day ****twenty-one – Sunday****, twenty-second of September – 11:21 p.m.**

**Interlude chapter**

Meanwhile at Snape Manor

The library

In the late evening hours

Severus Snape and Harry Potter are sitting at the sofa near the fireplace

**Severus**: Don't you think that it is time for you to go to bed finally, young man?

**Harry**: Uhm …?

**Severus**: How eloquent of you, Mr. Snape!

**Harry**: Well … I'm not really tired …

**Severus**: You definitely _look_ tired. Would you like me tucking you in? Maybe providing you with a baby blanket to cuddle with?

**Harry**: *blinks stupidly at the Potions Master*

**Severus**: And telling you a good night story? Maybe providing you with a bottle of warm milk? Or a pacifier?

**Harry**: Oh, oh! Please not! And no, I don't want you singing a lullaby either.

**Severus**: *chuckles*

**Severus**: Why ever not? I _do_ have such a calming baritone – you would be asleep within moments!

**Severus**: And _then _I – would have a peaceful evening all for myself.

**Harry**: Please, not, dad! Last time I heard you singing I got a headache!

**Severus**: Why, you little …

**Harry**: … insolent, insufferable and idiotic little whelp?

**Severus**: *growls*

**Harry**: *chuckles*

**Severus**: Seriously, Harry! You should go to bed! It is late and you look tired.

**Harry**: *mumbles* Can't sleep …

**Severus**: What is bothering you, child?

**Harry**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Harry?

**Harry**: evil minded …

**Severus**: *growls darkly*

**Severus**: You have read one of her books!

**Harry**: I just stumbled over it and I couldn't help having a look inside, and then I just couldn't stop reading …

**Harry**: The pages practically turned by themselves …

**Severus**: Those books are nothing for children, Harry!

**Harry**: I'm not a child! And she wrote in her rating that it was not for children or teens below the age of 16! And I _am_ _14_ _already_!

**Severus**: Exactly, you are 14, Harry. And 14 is not 16!

**Harry**: But you can't deny that I had a lot worse than those books.

**Severus**: Considering full grown mountain trolls, basilisks, the Dark Lord, dragons, dementors and Death Eaters – yes, you had.

**Severus**: But that does not mean that it is alright – neither that you can read books written for teenagers at the age of 16.

**Severus**: _Not to mention_ - that the subject this blasted woman writes about is coming close to home for you, child …

**Severus**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Well, I rather would not have you reading her books at all!

**Harry**: Too late …

**Severus**: *growls darkly*

**Severus**: I noticed that already.

**Severus**: *shakes head*

**Severus**: What is bothering you the most?

**Harry**: Well, she has written the chapter before the last. And as it seems, we're all dead, there are only ghosts in this classroom.

**Severus**: *groans with frustration*

**Severus**: So you have read "twenty-one days"!

**Harry**: Uhm … yes?

**Severus**: Couldn't you have read "little robe" or …

**Severus**: *blinks at the boy*

**Severus**: Well, no – I rather would _not_ have you reading "cartons of milk"!

**Harry**: Uhm …

**Severus**: .oO( … I know this 'uhm' … )

**Harry**; … well … it's too late for that as well …

**Severus**: Do not tell me, you have read "cartons of milk", Mr. Snape!

**Harry**: Uhm … well … I did …?

**Severus**: *groans*

**Severus**: Merlin! Why I ever thought I should allow you into my library, is a riddle to me!

**Harry**: Because you wanted me to read and learn?

**Severus**: There is nothing you could learn from those books this blasted woman wrote!

**Harry**: Dunno … I mean …

**Severus**: *lifts one eyebrow*

**Harry**: well … I mean … you see … that is … uhm …

**Severus**: Yes, Mr. Snape?

**Harry**: *sighs*

**Harry**: You see, if she had not written those books, then I would not sit here in your library together with you …

**Severus**: That might be. Nevertheless I would not have you reading those books, at least not until you are older.

**Harry**: *sighs*

**Harry**: alright …

**Severus**: What exactly is disturbing you the most, concerning "twenty-one days"?

**Harry**: Well, the fact that none of us survived – as it seemed. Does it mean that in the end _we_ will die too?

**Severus**: Those are just books, Harry. We are here, not in the potions classroom.

**Harry**: Yes, but she wrote that we came together, and that you adopted me, and you _did_ adopt me.

**Severus**: I do see your point.

**Severus**: Do you think you could sleep if I provided you with a dreamless sleep potion?

**Harry**: Sure …

**Harry**: Why did you change your mind?

**Severus**: *lifts his eyebrow*

**Severus**: Care to elaborate as to _what exactly_ you are referring to?

**Harry**: Well, earlier, when you said I could rather read "cartons of milk" and then you said I shouldn't …

**Severus**: Because knowing you, Mr. Snape, soon word would get out to Hogwarts, concerning the content of this particular book.

**Harry**: You mean, _you_ teaching four year old toddlers?

**Severus**: Exactly!

**Harry**: But why? You did rather well. And you were as snarky as always, just not as … well … you know …

**Severus**: *lifts one eyebrow*

**Severus**: I know _what_, Mr. Snape?

**Harry**: Well, I mean … you see … you were not so … so mean …

**Severus**: And exactly _that_ is what my fears are. I have a reputation to uphold after all.

**Harry**: Your reputation already _is_ destroyed, Professor.

**Severus**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Yes, I do fear that.

**Harry**: *grins*

**Severus**: *growls*

**Severus**: Wipe that smirk off your face …

**Harry**: But I like it that your reputation is destroyed, don't you see? Even the Gryffindors are seeing that you are not evil at all!

**Severus**: You _do_ wish to get your pocket-money this upcoming Saturday, don't you?

**Harry**: You already have given it to me, last Saturday, remember? I wanted to buy this practice snitch.

**Severus**: Well, then I am sure you want to survive until Saturday after next to get your allowance then.

**Harry**: I won't make good potions ingredients, dad. I'm too skinny.

**Severus**: Indeed!

**Severus**: *throws a dark gaze at Harry*

**Severus**: Fattening you up is an _impossible_ task, never mind how much food I stuff into you!

**Harry**: Hey! I'm doing my best! I can't eat more than my stomach allows! It's not my fault!

**Severus**: And I didn't say it was, Harry. I didn't mean it as a criticism.

**Harry**: *sighs*

**Harry**: I know …

**Severus**: Come here, you insufferable brat!

**Harry**: *snuggles closer to the Potions Master happily*

**Severus**: *lays his arm around the teen's shoulder and pulls him closer*

**Harry**: Dad?

**Severus**: Hm?

**Harry**: Do you really think she will have us all died?

**Severus**: I don't know, child. I have not read the ending either.

**Harry**: But if she has us dying, what will happen to _us_ then? To you and me? Here and now, I mean.

**Severus**: Even _if_ she will have us dying in this blasted book of hers, nothing will happen to us _here_. It's only a story, child.

**Harry**: Are you sure?

**Severus**: Of course I am sure, you foolish child.

**Harry**: You call me "foolish child" in "twenty-one days" too.

**Severus**: I know – you _are_ a foolish child after all.

**Severus**: However, I am sure she won't let us die in this blasted book of hers. She can't afford this, her readers would kill her.

**Harry**: I'm not so sure. She has proven often enough that she doesn't care what others are thinking of her. Remember the history lesson?

**Severus**: What's with the history lesson? I think I did rather well in this one, you learned a lot in it and you were not bored to death.

**Harry**: Well, approaching this particular subject. A lot of people could have felt offended. All those "Hitler-Death Eaters".

**Severus**: I beg your pardon?

**Harry**: Well, those who supported this guy, who still thought he did good and wanted him back. They could have torn her apart – midair.

**Severus**: You have a point.

**Harry**: And in "tears" where she had you taking me over your knees, people _did_ tear her apart and one even stopped reading the story at all – she didn't care.

**Severus**: You have read "tears" as well?

**Harry**: Uhm … actually … yes … ?

**Severus**: Is there _any_ book of hers that you did _not_ read yet?

**Harry**: Uhm … actually … no … ?

**Severus**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Tell me again _why_ I did allow you into my library.

**Harry**: *chuckles*

**Harry**: And then in "the room of requirement", she did start with a chat.

**Severus**: As strange as it was, what was wrong with that?

**Harry**: Well, a lot of people thought it never would work, but she did it nevertheless.

**Severus**: It worked fine.

**Harry**: Yes, but she couldn't have known at the beginning when she started this one …

**Severus**: No, she could not. But that is what authors do, they start writing and they see what will come out of it.

**Harry**: And then in "I just wanted to ask", she …

**Severus**: Mr. Snape!

**Harry**: *blushes*

**Harry**: Uhm … yes … ?

**Severus**: Do not tell me that you have read this one as well!

**Harry**: Uhm … well … I told you that I have read _all_ of them … ?

**Severus**: This one is for adults _only_ and she clearly pointed this one out in her rating!

**Harry**: Well … yes … I know … but it was like with the others, I mean, I just _had_ to look and then I just couldn't stop reading …

**Severus**: I fear I will have no other chance than having a serious talk with you, Mr. Snape!

**Severus**: This particular book of hers is not for you to read and you will be in serious trouble if you do when she continues writing this one!

**Harry**: But I need to know what happens next!

**Severus**: I will ward this particular book if I have to, Harry!

**Harry**: *looks at the Potions Master with hopefully large eyes*

**Harry**: And when I'm eighteen?

**Severus**: The moment you are eighteen, I cannot tell you what to read and what not. And nevertheless I do not like you reading this book!

**Harry**: But why not?

**Severus**: Because of the same reason some people did go against her when she wrote this one!

**Harry**: But you see, some people did not like it, but she didn't care and wrote it nevertheless, and some _did_ like it, it worked!

**Severus**: And you think that is a reason I should allow you reading it then?

**Harry**: No – I mean, _yes_! However, she didn't care again! She never cares what others think and that makes me fear that … well …

**Severus**: *sighs*

**Severus**: That makes you fear that she would not care in "twenty-one days" either and have us all died.

**Harry**: Yes …

**Severus**: Even if she does, it's just a story, Harry.

**Harry**: But it could affect us, like it did when she wrote that you adopted me and then you did!

**Severus**: Not everything she has written affected us, Harry. Just think of "Who would cry for me?" You never actually died so far.

**Severus**: It only is this – a story she wrote and nothing else.

**Harry**: But parts of it _did_ affect us, what if this will affect us as well? I mean, this is a big thing.

**Severus**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Alright, will you feel better if I have a word with her?

**Harry**: She's evil, dad! She wouldn't even listen to you!

**Severus**: It's worth a try.

**Harry**: And what if she kills you? What if she … what if she _tortures_ you? I mean, she has those swords and all!

**Harry**: *mumbles*

**Severus**: I can't understand your mumbling.

**Harry**: I don't … I mean, I need you!

**Severus**: *sighs again*

**Severus**: She won't kill me, child, don't worry.

**Harry**: *mumbles*

**Harry**: don' wanna you talkin' to her …

**Severus**: Alright, then I will not.

**Harry**: It's just two weeks …

**Severus**: Until what?

**Harry**: 'Till we know the end …

**Severus**: I will not allow you reading the end if I think that it would be too much for you to deal with, Harry!

**Harry**: *looking up startled*

**Harry**: What?

**Severus**:_ I will not allow you reading the end if I think that it would be too much for you to deal with!_

**Harry**: You can't do this, dad!

**Severus**: *lifts an eyebrow*

**Severus**: And why ever not, Mr. Snape?

**Harry**: Because I've started the book and if I don't know the ending, then I'll be on the edge forever!

**Severus**: I told you that it was wrong to start reading this blasted woman's books!

**Harry**: Please, dad! Just let me finish "twenty-one days"! I promise I'll be able dealing with the outcome!

**Severus**: You are not even able dealing with the strain _yet_, Harry.

**Harry**: Only because I don't know how it will end! The moment I _do_ know, I'll be alright!

**Severus**: No, you won't, because if she has us all dying in this bloody book of hers, then you will worry for ages about _us_ dying as well.

**Harry**: And if I promise that I won't?

**Severus**: As if you would be able to.

**Harry**: Please! I promise …

**Severus**: Do not promise things you won't be able to keep, Harry.

**Harry**: Just please, dad, I have to know!

**Severus**: I will read the ending first and then I will decide if you can read it. And this is my last word on this matter!

**Harry**: *sighs*

**Severus**: Blasted woman!

**Harry**: *looks up at his father*

**Harry**: You really don't like her, do you?

**Severus**: Considering that this blasted woman not only destroyed my reputation but also had you suffering the way she did – no!

**Harry**: But I like her books. She makes me think.

**Severus**: *frowns*

**Severus**: About what?

**Harry**: About things.

**Severus**: *growls*

**Severus**: About _what_ things?

**Harry**: Dunno, just 'bout things.

**Severus**: Mind your speech, Mr. Snape!

**Harry**: Can't, 'm tired.

**Severus**: Then you should go to bed.

**Harry**: It's weekend, dad. I don't have classes tomorrow.

**Severus**: That might be, but I do not appreciate a grumpy teenager all day long tomorrow.

**Harry**: You're grumpy too.

**Severus**: Insolent brat!

**Harry**: *looks up at the Potions Master again*

**Harry**: You know, you really have a weird view on people.

**Severus**: Is that so?

**Harry**: Yes! I'm an insolent brat, evil minded is a blasted woman, Draco is an impossible whelp, Albus is a meddling old coot …

**Severus**: *smirks*

**Severus**: With a reason, Mr. Snape. And now go to bed, child.

**Harry**: *yawns*

**Harry**: Isn't fair … wanna know the end …

**Severus**: *chuckles*

**Severus**: I will tell you the end.

**Harry**: *closes eyes*

**Harry**: Isn't the same …

**Severus**: *frowns*

**Severus**: Well, that's the deal. You won't get the last chapter into your hands before I have read it myself.

**Harry**: *snuggles closer*

**Harry**: 'k …

**Severus**: *runs his hand through his son's hair*

**Severus**: Foolish child …

**Harry**: *mumbles*

**Harry**: Like it when you call me that.

**Severus**: Insufferable brat …

**Harry**: Tell me a story?

**Severus**: If I remember correctly, and I am sure I do, then you just moments ago stated you rather wouldn't want hearing one from me.

**Harry**: Not true.

**Harry**: *yawns*

**Harry**: Said I wouldn't want a bottle of warm milk and a pacifier. And not you singing a lullaby.

**Severus**: *lifting an eyebrow at the brat*

**Severus**: *pulling the blanket from the backrest and spreading it over the child*

**Severus**: So you do want me telling you a story?

**Harry**: *nods*

**Harry**: hmmm … please …

**Severus**: Very well …

**Severus**: Once upon a time …

**Harry**: That's the beginning of a fairy, not a story …

**Severus**: Hush … once upon a time …

**Severus**: There had been a really insolent, insufferable and idiotic little whelp that was very disobedient.

**Severus**: *starts running his fingers through said whelp's hair*

**Severus**: He has been reading books that were not meant being read by him.

**Harry**: *yawns sleepily*

**Harry**: You never forbade …

**Severus**: No, but I never allowed it either.

**Severus**: At the same time there had been a mean, old Potions Master that was the poor boy's father and had found out about the books.

**Harry**: 'm not poor …

**Severus**: *smirks*

**Severus**: Oh, but you will be soon, brat …

**Severus**: And as a punishment the mean, old Potions Master had the poor boy hanging from the ceiling on his toes.

**Severus**: The boy still was very insolent and insufferable and asked the Potions Master to tell him a good night story! Imagine!

**Severus**: The mean old Potions Master however wouldn't allow this insolence going on and he let the poor boy hanging there for days.

**Severus**: He then cut the boy into potions ingredients limb by limb, starting with his little fingers.

**Severus**: *glances down into his son's face*

**Severus**: Harry?

**Harry**: *snores softly* …

**Severus**: Insolent brat!

**Severus**: *shakes his head*

**Severus**: Let it be this particular child to worry about a story like "twenty-one days" but falling asleep upon a horror story!

**Severus:** *grumbles*

**Severus**: Insufferable whelp!

**Severus:** *growls*

**Severus**: Won't tell him a good-night story ever again!

**Severus**: *gets up from the sofa and carries his son into his room, puts him to bed and covers him with his blanket*

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Twenty-one days**

_epilogue - how all of it ended  
_

**Added author's note**

Uhm … sorry about that … but I simply couldn't resist … writing an interlude before getting the very last chapter online – just to tease you a bit … the actual last chapter will be up soon … /me smirks evilly … after you have given me a few very nice rants in your reviews … I really do appreciate your rants … *smirk* …

thank you for reading … and reviewing …

kind regards until the soon upcoming last chapter

evil minded

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	29. epilogue – how all of it ended

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_If you however looked closer around the room, then you could see the pale and ghostly shape of a small and scrawny black-haired boy, suddenly sitting on the floor beside the legless tabletop where just a second ago had been empty space, two pieces of parchment held in his nearly translucent hands, laughing lightly, even if his pale and thin face held some kind of pain, announcing that he had only two cards left, the voice of the ghost echoing through the room startling hollow as if this scene had happened in another time or space. The pale and thin shape of another boy, a blond one, sitting there also and just as suddenly, seemed to growl at the dark-haired boy, holding up his hand with at least five pieces of parchment._

_You however better did not blink, because after the blink the picture of the two boys would be gone._

_If you however looked very close again, then you could see the shadows of a few skinny children sitting on chairs around a table, six of them actually, being there just as suddenly as had been the two children before, and all of them were holding such pieces of parchments in their ghostly hands while chess pieces were laying in front of them on the table. As it seemed they were playing a strange game of cards and chess they had mixed together, and laugher could be heard, bright children's voices mixed together so it was impossible to understand the words that once again seemed to be an echo of some sort, grotesque in the otherwise eerie silence of the dimly lit and empty room, just as bizarre as the wraith-like shadows themselves were._

_The shadowy shape of a tall figure came close, watching them for a while and you could see a small smile threatening to be shown on the pale and ghostly face, a small smile the adult man seemed to fight for a while before simply giving in and allowing his lips to curl upwards. The shape of the black-haired boy that sat in the midst of the ghostly children's group looked up at the man, smiling back at him and the pale hand of the adult reached over and gently carded its bony fingers through the boy's hair, causing bright but pale green eyes to sparkle with joy and bliss._

_Upon another blink however the picture would be gone as well and all that would be left would be the dimly lit and cold classroom, with only the remnants of life being left behind like a memory and a single desktop of a table without legs laying in the middle of the room on the dirty and dusty floor._

**Chapter ****twenty-nine**

**Day twenty-one – Sunday, twenty-second of September**

**Epilogue – ****How all of it ended**

The potions classroom down in the dungeons was silent and dark. Of course it was. It was long after midnight after all. No class would be held down here at such an untimely hour and if some living souls would be down here, then they surely were asleep right now.

But surely there _was no_ living soul down here, because it simply was not possible. A few spiders maybe would linger in a corner, yes, and one or another rat or mouse maybe would scurry along the walls. But surely no living human soul would be down here right now. The seventeen students and the teacher that were missing since twenty-one days were long dead by now.

That at least it was what Albus, Poppy, Minerva, Filius and Pomona were prepared for. Finding eighteen dead bodies within the potions classroom the moment they finally had overcome the castle's wards. It had taken them three weeks now to find the counter spells, but they finally had managed to find a solution, together with the help of two red-haired twins, and right now they were standing outside, all five of them, the headmaster, the three remaining heads of houses and Poppy acting as the fourth one for the moment, casting their spells upon the wooden door.

They would rather not doing this, opening this part of the castle, knowing what they would find within these walls – namely the deaths of their students and of one of their teachers, the deaths of seventeen children and the Potions Master, and they shuddered at the thought of _how_ they might have died, at the _horrors_ they might have faced in the end. But they also knew that it simply was necessary, because they had to retrieve the bodies so that their families could finally bury their beloved, they had to face this one final act.

Everything was dark, aside from the candles that were attached to the walls on either side of the door. And everything was silent, aside from the soft murmur of the spells those five persons murmured in the cold and dark stony corridor – until there was the soft _"boom"_ of an explosion that echoed through the dungeons corridors, rolling through them softly, silenced by the many wards they had erected around the area of the castle to prevent Hogwarts from sealing herself off again at the combination of spells and potions. After that again – everything was dark, and everything was silent.

With a soft click the door finally opened, after twenty-one days of being locked and for a moment all five professors stood there, nearly shocked, as if they had not believed it possible to finally open this door that had kept seventeen students and one teacher locked inside the potions classroom. But then Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, slowly, hesitantly, shoved the ajar door open, lingered a while in the doorway, casting a worried look towards Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress, before he finally stepped inside the dark room that was the potions classroom.

One single candle was burning on the teacher's desk where normally much more should shed light on the classroom, and a small glow came from the grate opposite of the room, a dying fire that lit the room in a dim light and Albus could see that the desks and the chairs were missing. So Severus either had transfigured them into beds before the magic had been drained completely off the locked rooms, or he had used them as firewood, what he thought was the case. The embers that still couldn't really warm the cold dungeon air still glimmering in a deep red, were proof enough that Severus had tried to safe the available wood as long as possible.

What shocked him however the most, were the shapes of the missed persons, seventeen students and a teacher, which were lying in front of the grate, in front of the dying fire, in front of the still glimmering embers, motionless, still and as if just sleeping peacefully instead of being cold and stiff and he had to close his eyes for a moment while he heard Minerva beside him hitching a breath.

That was not what he had wished for, for none of them and surely not for Severus, surely not for Harry either. To die like this. But well, he had known what he would find the moment he had this door open. It had been twenty-one days. It had been three weeks. He had known that they wouldn't have a chance.

He easily could make out Severus' form amongst the smaller bodies, and he actually had to blink at the picture that shocked him nearly to the core. In his death the Potions Master was cradling one of the students to his chest and taking a step closer he recognized the small and fragile body of Harry laying in the man's arm. He only could imagine what horrors must have happened down here during those twenty-one days so that Severus was cradling Harry in his arms, Harry of all people.

Severus had hated Harry. And Harry had hated Severus.

What had been happening down here so that those two of all people had overcome their rivalry and their hate? But on the other hand – no, he didn't really want to know.

Well, he always had wanted those two coming closer, but never like this, never in death.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Taking a deep breath he slowly walked over to the man's desk, his steps heavy and tired while he felt all of the one hundred and forty-eight years he had lived. He simply didn't dare walking over to the dead bodies yet and neither did the others. They all still stood in the doorway, Poppy with a face that was ashen, her hands folded in front of her chest like in a prayer, Minerva with tears in her eyes, both her hands in front of her mouth as if to stifle a cry of grief, Pomona with bent shoulders and the saddest expression on her normally so happy face he ever had seen and Filius as if there was something he forever would regret in his life, and he knew what this something was.

They simply had been too late.

Knowing Severus, the man had kept an account on those twenty-one days, and the headmaster reached out his trembling hand towards the parchments which lay in a neat stack at the middle of the desk, easily recognizing Severus' spidery handwriting. He never again would get lesson plans and student lists in the man's handwriting, Albus realized, and he couldn't help feeling all his grief doubling at that thought. Severus not only had been one of his teachers. Severus had been his friend, one of his closest friends, one he always had trusted and one he had loved as a son.

'_Friday, twentieth of September 1994' _he read the Potions Master's last entry, his last words, written with a clearly trembling hand.

'_I do not know how long I will be able to keep account. I feel that it will be my last entry. But then, I have felt the same yesterday already, and the day before,__ and still I found the strength to get up and take quill to parchment today, even though I do not know wherefrom I took this strength. _

_Pansy, Millicent, Vincent and Gregory will be the ones on the Slytherin side to survive a few days more – maybe. Brown, Granger, Thomas, Finnigan, Weasley and Longbottom on the Gryffindor side. _

_Daphne and Blaise, as well as Patil, maybe will make it through the next forty-eight hours, but surely not longer, and I __highly doubt that Tracy and Theodore will survive the day tomorrow. Harry won't make it through the night, I fear. I wonder how he has managed to survive until now. Even with facing his own death this brat is as disobedient and as insufferable as always and I fear he will not listen to me to keep fighting any longer.'_

For a moment Albus frowned and looked back at the date Severus had written. '_Friday, twentieth of September 1994_' he read. But that couldn't be! Harry had died on Thursday, twelfth of September. The wards around Privet Drive had fallen on this particular day and there was only one single reason for them to fall – Harry's death. But according to this entry Harry had been still alive on Friday twentieth of September. How could that have been possible? Why hat the wards … could it be that Severus had lost track in the date? That he had lost his sense of time? It could be, considering that he had been locked down here in the dungeons for such a long time, couldn't it?

And yet – even _if_ Harry had been alive back then, he surely wasn't alive anymore now. Severus clearly had stated that he wouldn't survive the night between Friday and Saturday. He knew Severus and he trusted his medical judgement – and right now they had Sunday night – or Monday morning. Three days after that entry._  
_

_'I don't know what to do the moment he dies, I have to admit. Not only because the others will lose all hope the moment the first child will die, but also because I started to like that bloody brat. __Yes, Albus, you read correctly. That blasted brat has wormed himself into my not existent heart. Don't you dare however mentioning this to anyone or I will haunt you even in death._

_However, and this is important, i__f you find them still alive, you will have to detain from giving them too much magical potions. Their bodies would not take them well and you only would drive them into shock. They will need nutrient potions immediately as I have provided them with the last dosages of this potion yesterday and there are simply not enough ingredients left to brew another batch, but no other potions right away. They will need something to eat first, a light chicken broth would be wise then. They will need the salt and the warmth of it. I have not been able to keep the fire as high as in the beginning or I would have run out of wood long ago. A herbal tea with dextrose too would be advisable._

_They will be relieved the moment you arrive, so I doubt that you will have to deal with panic attacks__, but I fear you might face emotional breakdowns. I however ask you to refrain from providing the children with calming potions. They will need to relieve their emotions and to deal with them on their own power, they will need to feel their relief and they will need to cry. Be there for them and calm them as good as possible, but without potions. I also ask you to respect their wishes if they want to walk out of this classroom on their own feet, despite your better judgment, but I do think it will be important for their mental health in the long run. _

_I have told you all the important things I can think of at the present time and I do not know what more to write right now. I will try to stay alive as long as possible for the sake of the children who won't last long without someone looking after them, but I have prepared them as best as I could. I however feel that this might be the end. As does Harry feel, he has told me so before he went to sleep tonight. I only hope that I did not make too much mistakes and somehow could have prevented this. And I hope you will find some of the children still alive the moment you finally will be able to open this door._

_One last thing though – please be careful in handling them afterwards. They have settled into a routine you maybe won't understand, and you cannot throw them back into the day by day routine of the school without preparing them nor without caring for their individual needs.  
_

_However, I will go to sleep now myself and see what tomorrow will bring.'_

It had been Friday.

And now it was Sunday.

So Severus had written this entry two days ago, what told him enough. Knowing the stubborn Slytherin head of house, he would have made an entry on Saturday, and today even, if he had been able to, and with trembling hands he laid the parchment back at the desk, finally turning. He could delay it as long as he wished, but he would have to approach their bodies at one point or another and so he took a hesitant step towards the mattresses.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He took another step towards the body of the younger teacher that had become rather close to him throughout all those years he had known the man and he knelt down beside Severus' legs that were lying beside Harry's smaller ones. Harry. The thought of the boy being dead hurt him more than he was ready to admit. Harry too had become rather close to him, as close as Severus had been, what had been the reason he always had wished the two of them getting along.

Well, as it seemed, he had his wish granted. The two of them _had gotten_ close. But not only had he missed it, but it also had been in death that those two …

Placing his hand on Severus' calf he gave a sad smile.

If only those two had found their ways towards each other before …

A soft, barely recognizable twitch in the Potions Master's leg underneath his hand had him startled out of his wits and with a furiously beating heart he quickly snatched his hand back, as if burned, and gazing intently at the man before him.

Severus was breathing.

His chest rising and falling slightly with each breath he took in his sleep.

He noticed that the Potions Master had tightened his grip he had around the smaller form of Harry as if trying to keep him there from being taken away, as if to keep him safe. He couldn't say if Harry was alive though. The boy's chest too was rising and falling, due to Severus' breathing, but he couldn't tell if the boy was breathing by himself or if his movements were caused by Severus' only.

He placed his hand back on the man's calf, slowly, before he took a deep breath and shook it slightly.

"Severus?" He softly called, not prepared for the dark eyes opening and gazing at him as intently as they always did and again he was startled, once more his heartbeat sped up furiously for a moment. Maybe those black eyes were even more intently, he thought for a moment.

"You are late. What kept you, Albus?" The Potions Master asked, his voice a soft growl, as if he wouldn't want to wake the students, and bleary, indicating that he wasn't fully awake yet. And if the situation hadn't been so dire, then Albus surely would have chuckled. It was a rare occasion that one would be able to hear the dark and tough Potions Master that normally had the first and second years wetting themselves with the sarcasm in his deep but cutting voice so tired and bleary. "Did you have to search for a tree and ask it for a piece of wood to make a new wand for getting those blasted door open finally?"

Well, that was Severus Snape, his Potions Master, impatient, sarcastic and always ready to blame someone.

"I am glad I find you still alive, Severus." He softly said, relief clearly audible in his voice, breaking the tension that had kept the rest of the teachers behind him, holding their breaths, but now they came to life and Poppy and Minerva already drew their wands to cast diagnostic spells over the students.

"Stop this at once!" Severus growled. "And put your wands away, except you want to have those children going into shock. After three weeks of drained magic and as weak as they are, you actually will have to do this the muggle way right now."

Poppy blinked at him for a moment, but then she began to understand and nodded, pocketing her wand and Minerva followed her example, not understanding, but trusting the judgment of the medi-witch.

He watched Severus gently wrapping his fingers around Harry's limp wrist, concentrating, searching for a pulse, until, after what seemed like an eternity to him, the man sighed with relief before he closed his eyes for a moment and released the boy, carefully working his way from underneath the small body and gently laying him onto the mattress. Well, as it seemed Harry was alive – however he had managed this. He had been so sure that the boy had already died days ago, the wards at Private Drive had fallen after all. And yet – he was alive, as were some others, he noticed while watching Poppy and Minerva for a moment. Poppy simply looking for vital signs while Minerva shook some of the Gryffindors awake.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Let them sleep, woman!" Severus growled softly but darkly, casting an annoyed glance towards the Gryffindor head of house and he shook his head. Gryffindors! Always acting before thinking.

"You do not happen to have brought some nutrient potions with you, Poppy, to get at least _anything _into those children Minerva has woken so _considerately_ before thinking, just like the true Gryffindor she is, as I have provided them with the last vials of nutrient potion four days ago?" Severus asked and Albus nearly chuckled at the man's voice. Yes, at least Severus still seemed to be his usual self, even though his voice sounded rather hoarse and weak somehow – yet, his sarcastic and cutting words made his weak voice sounding just as strong and piercing as it used to be.

"Four days?" Poppy asked startled.

"Indeed." Severus drawled before he turned towards Miss Granger. "Even if help is here now, I ask you to _not_ wake the rest of them, Hermione. The longer they sleep the less they will have to wait until they can be cared for."

It was then that Albus blinked at the man in true shock while Minerva gasped and Poppy stopped in the midst of her movement and gazed at him unbelievingly as did Filius and Pomona. Had Severus truly called Miss Granger by her given name? What in Merlin's name had happened down here during the past three weeks? That Severus was cradling Harry in his arms? And called a Gryffindor student by her given name? The world surely had turned upside down. Or the Potions Master had gone mental …

"The nutrient potions, Poppy." Severus reminded in exasperation. "Do you have some with you or do I actually have to go to the hospital wing first to get some?"

"What?" Poppy gasped, still shocked. "Oh … yes … yes, I have some with me. Of course I have."

"If you would then, please, Poppy." He growled.

"Dad?" A small voice came from the huddle of students and Severus immediately turned and knelt down beside Harry. Again Albus blinked in near shock, as did Minerva. Harry surely had to be delirious if he called for James.

"Hush, child." Severus whispered, extending his hand towards the boy's forehead to brush a few strands of hair out of Harry's pale face and Albus suddenly understood the moment he watched the Potions Master's movements. Those were not the movements of the cold and indifferent man he knew. Those were the gentle and concerned movements of a person that cared and worried for a – for _his_ child.

And suddenly he understood why the wards at Privet Drive had fallen.

"Are you able to go back to sleep for a bit longer, Harry?" The man asked in a soft voice sighing when Harry weakly shook his head.

"What happened?" Harry asked in a startling weak whisper, a question however that Albus too wanted to know, as did Minerva, but both of them kept silent.

"The headmaster is here, Harry." Severus answered, his voice still soft and gentle. "As is your head of house and Poppy."

"No houses." The boy whispered and Severus actually chuckled for a moment, a sound so align that Filius even squealed in shock, causing Harry to flinch startled.

"Hush, child." Severus soothed, placing his hand calmingly at Harry's shoulder and for a moment Albus could see how thin they were, Severus' thin fingers curling around Harry's thin shoulder and he knew that maybe he didn't have the right to judge their behavior. "It is only Filius whom I might have startled. You are right however, there are no houses. But remember that our rules do not go for the entire school. We have discussed this already, remember?"

Poppy watched the exchange between Severus and Mr. Potter while she had Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley drinking a nutrient potion. She couldn't believe how gentle and patient the man was with the boy, the Potions Master – she had only ever seen him as a strict and harsh man with little patience for children, and no patience for Potter at all, but not this sort of display. This surely was not the same Severus Snape she knew since years now and maybe she better would be sending him off to the mental ward at St. Mungo's?

"'k." Harry weakly whispered.

"Good." Severus nodded his head. "Stay flat, I will get you a potion in a moment."

"They're empty." Harry murmured, closing his eyes and again Severus chuckled instead of giving harsh words upon the Gryffindor's comment which he, a few weeks earlier, surely would have seen as cheeky words.

"Your brain still seems to work, Mr. Snape, if you remember this little fact, an improvement, I might say." The Potions Master drawled in his typical Snape-manner, causing Filius to squeal once more at the mentioning of _"Mr. Snape"_ and startling Harry into flinching again with his squeal, causing Minerva to choke on her own breath and Poppy to blink in shock at the two. Harry however seemed not impressed by the Potions Master's words while the man placed his hand on the boy's cheek to calm him once again.

"Hm-m." The boy only made, leaning into the touch, his eyes still closed.

"I ask you to cease your squealing in delight, Filius, as much as I can understand your lack of coherent speech, as you are startling my students that have suffered enough already." He said, looking over at the charms teacher without getting up or removing his hand from his son's shoulder to calm the child.

"Take this potion, Harry." He then said, taking one of the vials Poppy had brought down. "It is a pepper up potion that will give you a short energy boost. It won't hold up for too long, but at least for two or three hours."

"Thank you, dad." Harry softly said, downing the vial's contents and then giving the empty flask back to the man.

"You are quite welcome, child." The Potions Master replied, lightly running his fingers over Harry's face for a moment. "Remain laying for a few more minutes anyway."

"I think we best get them to the hospital wing." Poppy said while reaching a vial towards Severus so the Potions Master could give Harry a nutrient potion too. "I have the emergency portkey with me and so we can get them …"

"None of them will go to the hospital wing right now." Severus interrupted her and she blinked at the man that finally got up, once more shocked.

"I beg your pardon, Severus?" She asked. "They need rest and care and _that_ they surely won't get in their dormitory with all the other students around which only would ask them annoying questions the entire night and day, not to mention that I would like to have an eye on them."

"I _do_ know this, woman!" Severus hissed at her impatiently, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I _do_ agree. All of them will go to the hospital wing for sleep – later. But right now you will allow them to visit the great hall and have a bowl of soup and to simply sit there and let the situation sink in."

"Are you sure this is wise, Severus?" Albus asked. "They will need rest and such a visit to the great hall will be strenuous and …"

"You have not been here the past twenty-one days, Albus." Severus growled darkly at the headmaster. "You do not know what they need. I however have been here and I have been the one to hold it all together somehow – and therefore I _do_ know their exact state of health, physically as well as mentally. They are exhausted, yes, and I do agree that they need rest. But they also need freedom and peace. A small amount of light soup to eat and to sit together in a place they recognize as something they can associate freedom and normality with. And right now that will be the great hall. Not only their bodies have needs, but their minds as well."

"Yes, you might be right." Poppy finally admitted, her eyes thoughtfully resting on the man. Severus seemed to have grown past his usual snarky appearance. The man definitely had changed.

"Don' wanna go to the hospital wing." Theodore's low and bleary voice was to be heard and Severus immediately turned and knelt beside the boy, watching him intently.

"How are you feeling, Theodore?" He asked, his voice concerned while he pulled another vial with the pepper up potion out of his robe.

"Still tired." The boy answered, his eyes still closed and Severus placed his hand on the boy's lower arm to gain his attention.

"Understandable, child." He said, reaching the vial over to the boy when he looked up at him. "It will take some time for all of you to recover. But it finally is over."

"Know." Theodore murmured.

"Take this potion, Theodore, it's a pepper up."

"Great hall, definitely." Draco's voice murmured while the boy turned to his side so he could watch the man more easily and the Potions Master turned towards the blond boy.

"That is, what will be happening." He said. "Are you well, Draco?"

"With the thought of finally leaving, yes." The blond boy answered, his voice as low and as slow as Theodore's and Harry's had been.

"Very good." The Potions Master said, reaching the same vial towards the boy he had given Harry and Theodore.

"Pepper up." Draco immediately recognized the potion. "Good idea, just what I need now, thanks uncle Severus."

"You are quite welcome, Draco."

"Well, then I shall change the portkey so we can get all of you to the great hall then." Dumbledore chuckled happily.

But again Severus turned towards the headmaster, the gaze of his dark eyes intently watching the older wizard.

"No." He simply and calmly said.

"No?" Albus asked after a moment, not understanding, his voice shocked again.

"But Severus, you said …" Poppy blinked in confusion at him.

"I _do_ know what I said, you blasted woman, and it _will_ happen." It was a simple statement, Severus' voice low and calm, but at the same time this voice sounded so _definite_ and steady that again Albus blinked in near shock. There simply was no way that it would not happen what Severus wanted. "I do know that they all are tired, hungry and exhausted, but they will go to the great hall and they will do so by their own remaining strength. They _will_ leave this classroom on their own feet and they _will_ go to the great hall on their own feet."

"Severus!" Minerva gasped. "They are beyond exhausted, they are weak and they …"

"They – are – _not_ – weak, Minerva." Severus interrupted her, his voice dangerously low and his eyes blazing fiercely. "And you _will_ allow them the chance to do this by their own, to leave this classroom on their own feet. I promised them that much and it is what _will happen_!"

"Well, of course, my boy." Dumbledore said soothingly, fearing that the Potions Master might draw his wand and hex them into the next oblivion. "Of course, my boy."

Severus watched the headmaster for a moment longer before he inclined his head and then turned towards the students who meanwhile were all awake and waiting, watching him expectantly.

"Tracy and Parvati, please come here and take this potion too." The Potions Master gave orders, reaching two more vials at the two girls that were just as startling thin as were Theodore, Draco and more so Harry, and he knew that they wouldn't make it to the great hall on their own – while he at the same time knew that they had the right going to the great hall on their own two feet as had the others, knowing how important it would be for their mental health in the long run. "It is a pepper up that will give you the chance to make this journey on your own feet as well. Ronald, you will take Hermione with you. Justin, you will take care of Parvati, and Neville, you will watch out for Tracy. Gregory, you pair with Theodore, and Vincent, you go together with Draco. I will take Harry. The rest of you simply look out for each other. You all know what to do. Walk slowly and sit down if you feel dizzy. No one goes ahead and not one will be left behind. It is not important how long it will take us to reach the great hall as long as we _do_ reach our destiny. _Together_. Everyone ready to go?"

Seventeen heads nodded wordlessly at him and Severus, again wondering wherefrom Harry took the strength, helped his son up, steadied him and kept a firm grip on the boy before he ushered them all out of the classroom, the ones he had paired together at first and after them the rest of the students following. He went after them at the end of the row that slowly made its way out of the classroom and along the dungeons corridors, wondering if maybe their sudden rescue and hope of survival, of finally having a family and living to actually _enjoy_ it had given the boy he was leading one last push of energy.

"Go ahead, Poppy." He quietly said, bathing in the feeling of freedom that washed over him the moment he left the potions classroom and stepped into the wide corridors. "Ensure that the house elves have a light chicken broth ready. Small bowls only, their bodies would not be able handling much of food yet, even if it is just broth. They will be able to have more later, but not now. Make sure that the house elves send spoons along with the bowls so they take as long as possible to eat the soup instead of drinking it in one go. Also make absolutely sure that they will leave them alone and none of the other students or teachers is present in the great hall for annoying questions. And no further potions right now."

"Really, Severus." Poppy sighed, placing a hand on the man's arm. "Sometimes I actually wonder why you need me, if you are always able to walk one step ahead of me."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He was leading Harry along the corridors, his hand gently curled around the boy's upper arm, giving him the freedom to walk on his own but at the same time ready to catch him if he fell, still wondering how the boy managed to walk at all, remembering the last night when he had been so sure that the boy would die at any moment now, remembering the weak body in his arms, remembering watching the weak breathing getting slower and slower, weaker and weaker, until sleep had claimed the boy once more. It couldn't only be the pepper up potion he'd given the boy earlier, could it?

It was a long and difficult way for them out of the dungeons, up flight over flight of stairs and more than just once they stopped, one of them being too tired to continue walking and just sitting down on the stairs, resting a few minutes, the rest of them always following this ones example and sitting down on the stairs too. But none of the teachers said anything against it, and Severus wasn't sure if it was because they understood or if it was because they feared his comments if they did – or hexing them.

But neither did he care.

Those children had earned themselves the right to act as they did right now. To show their last remnants of dignity, of strength and of bravery in walking up those steps and along those corridors, while at the same time showing each and every sign of weakness in sitting down if needed as well. They had survived twenty-one days of hell, twenty-one days of fear, starvation and pain, of arguments, tears and jokes and last but not least of learning to trust, to think and to accept. And now they had the right to prove their last strength by walking on their own as well as showing their signs of weakness by taking a rest. It was nothing else than they had done the past twenty-one days, everyone going on as good as he or she was able to without being judged and without judging either.

They had acted not like the children they were but even more mature than one could have expected of any adults and they had earned his respect for this. And like that he would handle them – with respect, while he at the same time would make sure that anyone else would handle them just the same – with respect.

Harry who was walking slightly in front of him stumbled and he tightened his grip to avert him from falling headlong up the stairs until he had regained his footing, and the moment he had and looked up at him as if he wanted to apologize, he cast a stern gaze at the boy.

"You _do_ know that taking a rest is not a sign of weakness but a sign of intelligence, Harry?" He asked, giving the teenager a way to simply sit down on the stairs for a moment.

Nodding his head Harry understood and actually sank down, sitting on the stairs and immediately a softly repeated "stop" was carried up the stairs from student to student while all of them followed Harry's example.

"How are you doing this?" Harry asked, tiredly, weakly leaning against his side and Severus ran his arm around the small and trembling shoulders. The boy was beyond exhausted, tired, starved and weak. And he wondered how in Merlin's name he was still on his feet.

"How am I doing what, Harry?" He asked, even if he already guessed what Harry wanted to know.

"Why aren't you tired?" The boy asked. "I am so tired I would lay down to sleep if I didn't know how important this here is. My legs hurt, and my head and my stomach, and my back too, and I don't know how to get up again from those damn stairs. How are you able to continue walking?"

"Because he's a vampire!" Seamus Finnigan said laughing tiredly. "I always told you so."

"A vampire, Seamus?" Severus drawled, but the small grin that threatened to break free was proof enough that he wasn't angry but rather amused. "I always thought I were the dungeons bat."

"Watching you right now, I'm sure you're a vampire, sir." Seamus murmured, leaning against the wall beside him.

"And now I have worked on my bat-like stride for years!" The Potions Master growled darkly, yet nearly chuckling, causing Filius to nearly topple down the stairs in surprise and Pomona placing her hands over her heart as if she wanted to prevent a heart attack.

"You should have practiced harder to be a vampire, dad." Harry murmured, causing Minerva and Pomona to gasp in shock and causing Severus to snort. Filius however once more squealed at the word "dad" Harry had uttered while still leaning against the Potions Master and again the boy flinched violently.

"Hush, child." He softly said, drawing the boy closer while glaring at Filius. "_If_ I had known that one day I would hold a conversation about that particular subject with fourteen year old insolent, insufferable and annoying little brats such as you, then I surely would have chosen neither a vampire nor a bat." He growled teasingly.

"What would you have chosen then, Severus?" Neville asked, his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed, his use of the Potions Master's given name once more eliciting a squeal from Filius and a shocked gaze from Albus and Minerva actually stood there, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open with pure shock at the audacity of her student.

"You would like to know that, wouldn't you, Neville?" The Potions Master however asked without killing the boy for his audacity, causing the boy to open his eyes and looking at him tiredly.

"Course!" The boy answered.

"You might be careful of what you wish to know, Mr. Longbottom." Severus grinned at the startled expression upon the boy's face. "You might find out one day."

Neville gulped nervously, causing Severus to smirk at him.

"How _are_ you doing this anyway, dad?" Harry beside him asked.

"Believe me, son, I am just as tired as are all of you." The man finally sighed, he had long days ago learned to admit those things to his students, to _these_ seventeen students at least. "I am just a bit older than you and have more experience in hiding my tiredness."

"You said we are not to hide our tiredness, Severus." Hermione said.

"And you _are_ not to." He addressed the girl. "But that is the difference between you and me, Hermione. I am the adult here and you are the child here. Harry had to learn this, and you will have to learn this just as well. You will have to accept this little fact, a fact that all the Gryffindors should be taught, actually."

"You do know, my dear boy, that it is rather startling watching you acting in such a strange way?" Albus asked, finally joining into their conversation.

"I can imagine, Albus." Severus growled darkly. "And if word of this goes out to anyone not present here at the moment, then I personally will ensure your death, and believe me – it will be a very painful experience."

"Yes, I too am glad that we have gotten through those wards finally, my boy, I too am glad." Albus chuckled, unimpressed by his Potions Master's words.

"How _have_ you finally gotten through those blasted wards, by the way – after such a long time?" He asked, going very serious. "We have given up hope long ago actually."

"Actually – we had a bit of help from two identical Weasleys and a … well, a potion they had been brewing." Filius Flitwick finally dared to say something too while he still was hopping on the stairs, delighted about the entire situation and not able to control his delight. Well, he couldn't blame the man, he had to admit.

"The Weasley twins?" Severus asked, his dark eyes piercing the small charms professor. "What exact potion had it been, Filius?"

"I'm not really sure." The man said, furrowing his brows. "I only know that they claimed to better have left Hogwarts as soon as you are out of the dungeons – or at least before you had a chance killing them."

"I definitely will have a word with them." Severus growled, already knowing what exact potions those two had brewed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

They were crossing the entrance hall, the double winged wooden doors of the great hall in front of them and the double winged wooden doors of the castle's entrance to their right and for a moment Harry hesitated. It had been a long and tiring way from the dungeons classroom to the entrance hall and now the great hall where they all could rest lay in front of them.

And he knew it would be unfair if he now wanted to go a detour and step outside when everyone just wanted to enter the great hall and rest, sit down on the benches and have the bowl of soup Severus had promised them.

If the thought of going outside into the fresh nightly air only wouldn't be so tempting.

"You too?" Draco beside him asked, hesitating as well, his grey eyes on him with a nearly longing gaze in them and Harry couldn't help nodding.

"Wouldn't be fair." He nevertheless murmured.

"What wouldn't be fair?" Vincent who had his hand on Draco's shoulder asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"To go out for a moment." Draco answered quietly for Harry who right now was close to tears.

Severus tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder, stopped him in his steps and turned him, gazing into the teen's pale face. The teen. The boy. It was Harry, and Harry was his son now. Not officially by the ministry, but officially by ancient magic, and he had promised Harry that he would make it official in front of the ministry as well, never mind what. He had promised him that he would adopt the boy officially in front of the ministry, that he would give him a home, a family and everything he had missed for thirteen years now.

"That would be great." Vincent Crabbe sighed.

"Stop." Severus called out and he waited until everyone of them had turned to face him, waving them over, watching their tired, pale and thin faces. "Some of you considered going outside for a moment into the …"

"Yes!" Was heard from some while others just smiled and nodded and Severus inclined his head and turned Harry to his right, leading them towards the double winged entrance door.

"Severus?" He heard Poppy from behind him the moment he reached the double winged doors and he turned, as did the students, seeing the woman leaving the great hall where she had prepared everything the Potions Master had asked for.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Poppy asked the moment she reached them.

"Nothing, Poppy." He answered, glad that this time he didn't get words against his decision. He would not mind them, he had kept those children alive for three weeks under nearly impossible conditions and he had brought them through hell and at the same time he had kept them not only alive but sane as well. He had kept everything together during the past twenty-one days. He had the right to make those decisions now.

"The children just want to be out for a moment to get their much-needed fresh air." He explained while turning back towards the entrance and shoving the double winged doors open, taking Harry by his shoulders and gently leading him out in front of him, followed by the rest of the students. He had to have a tight grip on the child meanwhile, one of his arms draped over the boy's thin chest to keep him upright at all and his other on his upper arm to steady him, but still Harry was setting one foot in front of the other by himself.

"Don't walk away too far." He said while sitting Harry down onto the stairs. "Just sit here on the steps or on the grass in the yard."

"Shall I get the house elves to bring a few cups of warm tea?" Poppy asked, ignoring Albus' worried expression and Pomona's annoyed look on her face. She knew that Severus knew what he was doing and honestly, the man had cared for them day and night throughout the last three weeks, under conditions that easily could have gotten all of them dead. Not to mention the fact that the children had indeed missed fresh air for long enough, it would do them good. She had seen their relief the moment the first breeze of air had touched their faces.

"I would appreciate that, thank you, Poppy." Severus said, sitting down on the steps together with Harry, Theodore, Draco, Neville, and Ronald, while the rest of them went down to the small lawn in the yard, laying in the grass and gazing up into the nightly sky that was partly covered with clouds while a few stars and the moon showed between them. "The cups half-filled only and have the house elves add a teaspoon of honey into the tea, please."

Harry beside him trembled in the cold night air even though the air was still without a strong breeze, only softly caressing their faces. But it was the end of September after all and in the middle of the night. Slipping out of his cloak he pulled Theodore closer to Harry and placed the fabric over the two boys, covering them with the black cloth. He would miss them the moment they would go back to their dormitories. He would never admit it to anyone, but he knew it nevertheless. He definitely would miss it, having them around all day long. As he would miss Draco.

Harry's hands trembled so much he barely was able to hold the cup of tea the house elves brought and Severus reached over to place his own hand above the boy's ones to steady them at least enough so that Harry could drink. His own hands trembled, but they didn't shake as much as did Harry's.

Merlin! He had been so sure that the boy would die. He had not given him the night, and surely not another day. He, even days ago, had been sure that the boy would die soon. And the boy had known it too. He had seen it in those damn green eyes.

The acceptance in them.

Yes – they all had learned to accept. To accept the fact that they were hungry, that they were tired, that they were weak, and to accept that they – in the end – would die. To accept that they would lose friends. They all had learned to accept and he had seen this kind of acceptance in Harry's eyes last night, before he had slipped back to sleep. The boy had known that his time had come.

And now they were sitting here and so much alive and Harry actually might have a chance.

Maybe.

It wasn't over yet, and he knew it. It would take a long time until they all were recovered and Harry as well as Theodore were both candidates for … well, they still might die from the aftermath. But they had a chance now. A _real_ chance.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry felt Severus' hands wrapping around his own that held the mug and he was grateful for the Potions Master's hands helping him to steady his own as he was not able to keep his shaking fingers still and nearly spilled the tea even though the cup was only half filled. He leaned against the man's side and closed his eyes, knowing that he was not only safe, that he not only had survived what had seemed impossible just a few hours ago, but that he also was welcomed, that he actually was _wanted_.

But then, a moment later he felt the man hitch a breath and turning his head slightly he looked up, just to nearly give a startled scream away and quickly he turned completely, scrambled to his knees, the cloak that was placed over him and Theodore slipping off his shoulders and the cup of tea falling to the ground, shattering to pieces while he knelt beside the man, nearly shaking the older wizard that had become so important in his life.

"Sir? Dad?" He asked and even he could hear the fear in his own voice, but he just couldn't help the fear he was feeling. The Potions Master had tears running down his face, actually tears and the fear he felt was nearly overwhelming, was suffocating him, was robbing his breath away. Snape never cried! Snape was cold and dark and tough! Snape was … he was … he …

"Sir!" He repeated, this time really carefully, fearfully shaking the man's shoulder. "Severus? Dad?"

He saw the man turning his face towards him completely, felt Theodore beside him shaking his arm but he shook it off. Didn't Theodore see that something was wrong with Severus? Didn't … didn't …

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness he remembered having seen Severus crying before, just last night, but he didn't really register it and he suddenly wasn't able to breathe anymore. Severus would die! Why else would the man cry _now_? He only had hidden his weakness but he was as weak as they all were, he knew it, Severus had said so, just moments ago. They were out of the dungeons and now they could eat, and sleep and survive and they could … and now Severus would die, now that it all was over and …

Now that he was about to have a home … a family … a father … a …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus barely realized Harry beside him scrambling to his feet and kneeling beside him on the stony steps, shaking his shoulder, and neither did he realize a tear running down his cheek, followed by a second, but he _did_ realize the moment Harry called him _'dad'_ before he seemed unable to draw any more breaths and blinking startled he turned his head towards the boy, taking in the panicked expression and suddenly he understood.

He quickly turned the boy on his shoulders before he pulled him into his arms so Harry was leaning with his back against his, Severus' chest.

"Calm down, Harry." He whispered, running his hand over the boy's face. "Breathe like I taught you to, slow but deep breaths. Match your breaths with mine and you will be quite fine." He could hear his own voice trembling, could hear his own voice sounding like a rough whisper. He knew the fear Harry felt right now, had felt it the past few days, especially last night, the fear of losing a person he loved.

And suddenly, blinking at his own thoughts in shock, he realized that he indeed _loved_ the boy. He had not allowed himself to love since thirteen years, but now he loved this boy.

"Breathe in." He softly ordered. "I am quite fine, child and there is no need to worry about me … and now breathe out. I am just glad that I did not lose you like I feared and I was overwhelmed for a moment of this realization … and now take another breath. As much as it pains me to admit it, but I would not know what to do if I lost you, child … breathe out. And Theodore and Draco for that matter. The three of you have become quite important in my life, as strange as it might sound … breathe in. That's it, child. Continue breathing like that and you will be quite fine."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was more than an hour later, the moment they finally entered the great hall, and if he wouldn't have been so tired and exhausted he would have bothered to cast a tempus charm. But as it was, he simply was too tired to bother with such trivial things like time. The moment he entered the great hall behind the students he simply breathed a sigh of relief. They had managed to reach their destination and they had managed to do so on their own two feet. They had managed what he had promised them they would manage.

He had promised them not only to keep their spirits up. He had believed in it, knowing that they would not believe in it either if he did not. But the longer they had been down there, the weaker they had gotten, the harder it had been to actually keep this confidence up.

But they had made it and he had to admit that he was rather proud at them, at all of them. They all had grown beyond them, even Ronald Weasley.

He watched the boy taking his seat beside Blaise Zabini at the end of the Slytherin table, not even casting a glance at the Gryffindor table, just like all the other Gryffindors did. They automatically had followed Vincent, Gregory and Blaise to the Slytherin table and they automatically had taken their seats there without questioning their actions, and the Slytherins had accepted them on their table without thinking either.

He guided Harry to the table and seated the boy beside Theodore while he himself sat on Harry's other side. Most of them had their arms laying on the table and their heads resting on their arms, their eyes closed, ready to sleep and never ever wake again and he actually was glad for the moment the bowls with the broth appeared.

"Eat!" He softly ordered, his voice however not allowing contradictions. "And eat slowly. Use the spoons." He knew how tired they were and that most of them probably wouldn't bother eating anything, their tiredness, their exhaustion overshadowing their hunger that had become something they had gotten used to anyway, but he also knew how important it was. "You do not have to finish it, but I want you to at least try it." Not only was it important that they ate something at all, but that they ate together right now. They had survived together, and they should end this together. "And if you feel sick, then just say so and I will give you a stomach potion."

He watched them eating, spooning their soup, broth only, but it was good to know that they were able to eat something, that they actually _had_ something to eat. Not everyone was out of the woods yet, he knew, and his gaze wandered over Harry and Theodore, brushed even Draco, Tracy and Parvati, but they actually had real chances now. They would survive, he just had to believe in it, just like he had believed that they would make it out of the dungeons alive.

**The end**

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

* * *

**To be continued i****n "A few days more":**

_The seventeen Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth year students __together with Professor Snape have survived twenty-one days of captivity in the dungeon classroom due to a potions accident and an attack of Death Eaters, without real food. Now they are free, but how will they all deal with the aftermath of those days that had bound them together? That had united them? How will the rest of Hogwarts students react to the sudden friendship between the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins? Will they be able to keep their friendships up and will Severus be able to deal with them now that they have to heal and are no longer imprisoned in the dungeons? Will all of them survive the aftermath or will some of them be too weak and die after all?  
_

**Added author's note:**

This is the last chapter of this story. I do know that many of you have held true to this one, that many of you have been worried while reading, have been crying while reading and have been laughing while reading. And nevertheless it had been clear that this story one day might end. And this end, it now is here, the first story I have to end and I have to admit that I feel really bad about it, ending this story, closing this chapter and leaving the parchments laying on my desk.

The continuation however will be _"A few days more"_ and I do hope that all of you will read the sequel as well and that all of you will be able to laugh and cry with them once more.

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, this story … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	30. sequel to – a few days more

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in twenty-one days**

_He guided Harry to the table and seated the boy beside Theodore while he himself sat on Harry's other side. Most of them had their arms laying on the table and their heads resting on their arms, their eyes closed, ready to sleep and never ever wake again and he actually was glad for the moment the bowls with the broth appeared._

_"Eat!" He softly ordered, his voice however not allowing contradictions. "And eat slowly. Use the spoons." He knew how tired they were and that most of them probably wouldn't bother eating anything, their tiredness, their exhaustion overshadowing their hunger that had become something they had gotten used to anyway, but he also knew how important it was. "You do not have to finish it, but I want you to at least try it." Not only was it important that they ate something at all, but that they ate together right now. They had survived together, and they should end this together. "And if you feel sick, then just say so and I will give you a stomach potion."_

_He watched them eating, spooning their soup, broth only, but it was good to know that they were able to eat something, that they actually had something to eat. Not everyone was out of the woods yet, he knew, and his gaze wandered over Harry and Theodore, brushed even Draco, Tracy and Parvati, but they actually had real chances now. They would survive, he just had to believe in it, just like he had believed that they would make it out of the dungeons alive._

**Twenty-one days**

**Timespan of several d****ays – date unknown  
**

**Preview to the sequel**** – A few days more**

They all had been released from Poppy's claws just two days ago, after they had – _enjoyed_ – her hospitality so very much, and now, this very Monday morning they all were to go back to classes – Severus teaching potions and Harry together with the other fourth years that had been locked down in the potions classroom for twenty-one days going back to their own classes.

Well, at least it was potions they would have first thing this morning and for a moment Severus wondered – what would it be like? Would they even be able to concentrate in his class or would they rather be scared that such an accident like four weeks ago could happen once again? He himself didn't feel too well, he had to admit that. They had been through hell because of spells and a potion – and he knew that what happened once could happen a second time. They were working with spells and potions after all, they were wizards after all.

While at the same time he knew that he couldn't allow his fear to take the upper hand and start ruling over his life. He would have to resign his job if he did that. But those children were just that – children, unable controlling their fears as well as he did, and he knew that they were – anxious – a bit.

Harry hectically scooping up a bit of eggs over a slice of toast caused him to frown at the boy.

"What exactly are you doing, Mr. Snape?" He asked, scowling at his son. It wasn't as if he hadn't told all of them how important not only _regular_ meals were but calm meals they held in peace too and now the child already started spreading chaos and hectic on their very first morning of regular classes. He could understand that the child was anxious, that he was nervous and that he was even scared – and most likely not only because of the potions class but because of him, Snape, being back to his normal spiteful behaviour as well, but they had already talked …

"Uhm … well, we don't have much time and I'm always so slow with eating and this way I can eat on my way to the dungeons." The child explained, already getting up with this – breakfast.

"Sit down, Harry." Snape ordered, still scowling at the child. "First – seeing as it is potions that will be your first class this morning, we won't start before not all of you have finished their breakfast. Second – even if it were any other class, you will keep sitting here until you have finished your meals – calmly and without hectic. I will repeat it – it is imperative that you hold your meals slowly and without any stress, that you hold your meals at the table and that you hold your meals together and in peace. And that is final, Harry, and now sit down and start your breakfast – including your nutrient potion and the cup of hot chocolate."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Waking with a dull headache and feeling the remnants of a particularly vile potion lingering somewhere in his mouth he knew – something had happened, again, and he tried to open his eyes, slowly. There wasn't however the harsh, white light of the hospital wing that always hurt his eyes upon waking there and he knew – he wasn't in Madam Pomfrey's care – not yet, he thought sarcastically, closing his eyes. He would try figuring out where he was in a moment, when he would be able opening his eyes completely.

Slight movement to his left told him that he wasn't alone and he forced his eyes open again, tried to sit up, but a hand on his chest kept him from this particular movement.

"You will stay in this position for a bit longer, Harry!" He heard Snape's voice even before he could recognize the blurry black outlines of the Potions Master, the man's voice soft and definitely worried. "You have collapsed during herbology and so I brought you home."

"'m sorry." The blasted boy said, apologizing for something he had no control over – again.

"There is no need to be, Harry." Severus growled softly, his heart not being in the growl at all. "You will stay in bed for the reminder of the day and we will see how you are tomorrow."

"But I'm fine, sir." The idiot child said and he took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately I do not believe this, Mr. Snape, seeing as you are always _'fine'_ even if you are just an inch from death's doorstep, and so I fear that I will be a bit overprotective of you for a while now." He said, fixing his dark eyes with the boy's green ones. "And for now you won't go anywhere alone."

"But … but I have to use the loo and surely you won't go with me there, because …"

"Hush, you foolish child." The Potions Master said, placing his hand over the child's cheek, silencing him instantly. "It would not be the first time, and I simply cannot lose you, Harry." He couldn't help saying, his voice shaking slightly now from withholding his emotions. "Not after you have been so close to death just a week ago. I will not lose another person I love, Harry!" He then firmly added, nearly as if it were a command.

"Uhm … alright dad, I get it." The blasted child said and he wasn't sure if the boy looked scared of him or worried over him. "I scared the hell out of you. I'm sorry, ok?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry was actively partaking in all of their meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as the snacks between. He was sleeping a lot and he was doing the exercises in the gym he especially for them had installed in the dungeon. He also had the children walking through the grounds once a day, around the lake even if they had enough time at the weekends and if the weather allowed it, and he had them talking and playing games in the evenings, making sure that they did other things aside from just studying as many of them were afraid that they wouldn't catch up due to their imprisonment and four weeks of classes they had missed and then would disappoint him.

On the other hand Harry often was very quiet now.

While he had kept all their spirits up during those twenty-one days down in the potions classroom, it now was as if he had spent all energy of keeping up anything back then and he now was simply empty. The still so very small portions the boy barely managed eating were worrying as well, but it had to be expected, knowing how long this particular child had been starved actually. It would take time for him to get used to eating regular and – halfway – full meals again.

All of this, the good and the bad was promising for Harry's recovery, and he knew that, knew that even the bad – it was necessary so that in the long run it would be alright. What wasn't promising however, was his trembling. Harry had still not been able keeping up his own body warmth, relying on charms and warm clothes to keep at a reasonable temperature … and even then, Severus could see the small body shaking from the cold every so often. At first it had been worrying, then it had become concerning, and now it simply was terrifying and Severus had little choice than to face what was in front of him – Harry had survived, yes, but it would take him months to recover from hell – if he ever would.

Throwing a blanket he had brought with them over the bony form that was sitting in one of the more cosy chairs he settled down into one of the chairs himself while the others scattered around them on the benches or in the grass. He would manage, somehow, he swore to himself, he would manage to bring Harry back to health.

Harry was grateful for the blanket Snape – his father – always brought with him, as well as for other things, like a cardigan or a bag with potions or other things the older wizard thought he maybe would need. It was more than two weeks now since their _'21 days'_ like many of them called it, but still he always was so damn cold and weak and tired, and Severus always tried his best to make it easier for him. The man definitely was the pure opposite from what he had been the past three years, he was caring and he was helping and he was … sighing he had to admit that he didn't know what exactly, and looking over at the man he couldn't help but smile at the strange picture of Snape who was enjoying the sun.

It looked to him like a man who was enjoying the last sun he ever would see in his life, or the first sun he never before had seen – and Harry swallowed thickly for a moment, hitching a breath, because he knew – he wasn't so far from the truth. Severus, as much of a dungeon person as he might be, he had not seen the sun for twenty-one days and surely he must have missed it, feeling the warm rays of sunlight on his face that still was paler than it used to be since he knew that man.

"Do not set yourself apart, Mr. Snape." He heard his father's soft voice and suddenly the man was leaning towards him, his hand softly touching his chin and lifting his head. "Do not forget that you have been through the same than the rest of us, if not worse." The man's gaze upon him was so piercing suddenly, he could feel it slicing through his body and through his mind, through his soul … as if he could read his thoughts, again!

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It really had been a great evening, going to the Durmstrang ship and talking with Victor. He liked the older boy and they hadn't even talked about Quidditch all evening. They had gone over a few charms and Headmaster Karkaroff even had allowed them into the large ship library – what had been the reason of him now being late and he hoped that his father wouldn't be too upset.

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door however stopped him in his tracks.

Snape was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, visibly upset and Harry could make out the head of the headmaster sitting in the fire, trying to calm the Potions Master.

"I do not _know_ where he could be Albus!" Severus said and Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach that his father was talking about _him_ and that the man had worried about him for quite a while now. Well, seeing that he actually _was_ late, the man definitely had.

"I think, your wayward son just came home, my dear boy." Dumbledore said, the headmaster's eyes straying towards him, Harry, and the Potions Master quickly turned on his heels, dark eyes piercing him angrily and Harry couldn't help cringing.

"I do thank you, headmaster." The older wizard then said, not getting his eyes off him and suddenly Harry wished that Dumbledore would stay, would not leave him alone with the irate Potions Master right now. "And you, young man, you better go to your room – _right – now_!"

"What?" Harry asked, perplexed for a moment. "But I've …"

"Please _do not_ interrupt and a bit more respect on your part might be wise." Severus said so coldly that Harry had to look away to hide the tears that suddenly threatened to form. Severus hadn't looked at him or spoken to him like that in a long time and now it made Harry fear that he – again – had ruined everything, like he always did, that Severus was right back to hating him that he surely didn't want him as his son now any longer.

"First – I asked you to leave a simple note if you were to go anywhere so I would know where to find you if necessary, what you have not done." The older wizard hissed, angrily, causing him to take a step back cautiously. "Then you missed dinner despite my constant efforts to make sure you know how important all your meals are and finally you even stay away until after curfew! Do you not think that I have all rights being angry?"

"I'm sorry." He quietly whispered, knowing that Snape was right. "I …"

"I do not want to hear anything from you right now." The older wizard said and Harry felt even more miserable. "Right now I want you going to your room! I will send Zilly in with dinner and you will eat it if you wish to survive the night!"

Once he was in his room, Harry sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and he felt more miserable than he ever before in his life had felt. Not even during the last few days they'd been locked in the potions classroom had he felt as miserable as he did right now. His father's angry look had pierced him to the soul and one thing was for sure – if Snape was going to regret having become his father, then this surely was the moment.

Dammit! Leaving a note was such a small and simple thing!

And he even had _known_ why Severus had asked him to leave a note! Why had he been so stupid and irresponsible? He hadn't meant to be! He really hadn't! Making Severus angry had been the last thing he'd wanted to do, ever! But he had been so eager to meet with Victor – he hadn't even remembered that his father just a few weeks ago had asked him to leave a note before leaving so he wouldn't worry about him.

Would Severus still be his father now?

Surely he would, wouldn't he?

Surely he wouldn't start hating him again because of one mistake, would he?

But what if he did?

Well, that particular thought was so terrible and scary, he wasn't able to actually eat anything Zilly brought in just a moment later and never mind how much he tried – he simply couldn't push it away – because if Severus hated him again Harry didn't think he could go on. It would just hurt too much, even more than any beatings he ever had gotten from uncle Vernon, he knew.

Of course he knew that Severus wouldn't abuse him, even if he hated him again, he wasn't worried about _that_, not really at least, but he knew that it would hurt so much more to have lost what he always had wanted the most, to see the professor every day – with the knowledge that he had lost his care.

Suppressing his desperate sobs Harry carefully looked over at the closed door from under his fringes, wondering what his father might be doing right now and if the man would come in to talk with him at one point or another today. He so desperately wanted to see the older wizard, wanted to apologize again and to somehow make it alright again – even though he didn't really know how exactly he could do that. He simply wanted Severus to come and he would accept _any_ punishment his father chose to hand out to him, if he just would forgive him. Anything would be better than this here!

And maybe if Severus really beat him green and blue then maybe it even would be forgiven! Of course he knew how small _that_ chance was. The Dursleys never had forgiven him anything just because of a good beating. But maybe Severus would.

Maybe Harry should go to him and apologize again! But no – Severus had said he had to stay in his room. Well, no – actually he had not, he only had said that he had to go to his room, but Harry knew that it meant the same. And he was determined that he this time would obey, that he always would obey from now on! He never ever again would disobey Severus and he never ever again would cause any trouble to him and maybe one day his father would love him again then, would care for him again then!

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Severus Snape had asked Zilly to bring him a cup of coffee and slowly he had realized that – Harry was at home now and he was safe now, he was alright, neither hurt nor ill. And half an hour later he had calmed down enough to acknowledge to himself that Harry was not the first teenager that had disobeyed his father and neither would he be the last one. Another half an hour later he had calmed down enough to realize – Harry hadn't even done a terrible thing but had just forgotten to leave a note and then had come home late – and he, Severus, he had been the one who had overreacted.

Well, maybe not really overreacted. He had been angry and he had sent the boy to his room, but the tone he had used with this particular boy surely had done nothing to ease the child's ever present fears and insecurities.

Taking a deep breath he got off the armchair and went over to the boy's room, knocking at the door before opening it – just to see the boy sitting on the floor in front of his bed, his still so fragile and slight body rocking back and forth with whatever it was Harry was suffering from – the child clearly had worked himself into a state and he, Severus simply wasn't able to watch on without doing something to ease his son's pain – and he sighed. The boy really had already enough on his back without such teenage angst.

Calmly he went over to the teen and grabbed his upper arms, pulled him off the floor and seated him atop the bed.

Harry looked up at the man uncertainly.

For a moment he didn't know how to start, but he simply had to know and he, Harry, he knew better than anyone that the Potions Master not only had a temper but that he also had a tendency to hold grudges. Not that he could blame him if his father still were angry, he knew that he really had messed up with his disobedience this time, knew that most likely he couldn't make it good again and he felt so horrible about it, it physically hurt.

"I'm sorry." He tried. "Really."

The older wizard took a deep breath, his dark eyes on him as if he wanted to read his thoughts – what he sometimes was sure the man could do – but he didn't speak and Harry's heart sank. "I'll try harder, I promise, really." He tried again. "I know you wouldn't want me now anymore and … I mean, I know you said you wouldn't beat me ever, but you didn't know what a bother I'd be back then and … I mean, I just – maybe you could forgive me after a beating? Please? I promise I'll be good and …"

"Harry!" Severus called out, his voice rough with barely concealed emotions and shock, and he quickly grabbed the boy by his shoulders, having to keep himself from shaking the idiot boy – who flinched back violently this time upon his sudden move and as capable of keeping an indifferent face as he always was – this time he wasn't able to keep the expression of shock and pain from his face.

The boy averted his eyes and tried to slump his shoulders, to stare at the floor, but he held the thin shoulders firmly, careful so that he wouldn't hold them too hard until his grip would hurt.

"Do not ever think something like that again, Harry!" He finally said, barely able to keep his anger out of his voice and Harry looked up at him uncertainly. "Merlin! How can I make you understand, Harry?" He asked, feeling a mixture of pain, sadness and frustration. Pain over the amount of emotional pain his son seemed to be in, and sadness and frustration because still the boy feared him, still the boy thought he would abandon him one day, would beat him one day. "You are my child, Harry." He finally said, trying to sound calmer. "I think I would not survive it if I lost you and alone the idea of – Merlin, giving you a beating is unbearable! Please tell me that you do not truly believe that I ever could do such a thing!"

The boy however only looked away, tears definitely glittering in his emerald-green eyes, guilt written over his face and he knew – even if Harry would take his words back if he could, he truly believed it.

"You really think so poorly and low of yourself." He said, his voice heavy and sad. "Merlin, child! How can I ever make you see your own value? How can I ever make you see how much you mean to me? That I never would give up on you, that I never would beat you, starve you or lock you into a cupboard, not even into your room! And surely not upon a stupid mistake? _You – are – my – son_!"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had known it! Since the first time he had set his foot into the history of magic class this year – and had seen the new professor instead of Professor Binns, he had known that he would get into trouble with the man. Professor Creighton always had looked at him as if he were a particularly vile insect or something like that – even worse than Severus had looked at him before the beginning of this school year and he had known that one day he would be in real trouble with the man. He just had hoped that it wouldn't be so soon – and not like this.

Well, and now, leaning with his hands at the wall he braced himself for the next inevitable blow he knew would hurt like hell, just like the others had done. But he had known this already, after all. He had known the kind of cane Creighton right now was lifting into the air over and over again, the one he always used to point at the board with. Uncle Vernon had used a similar one and so he had known what it would feel like.

Gritting his teeth and steeling himself for the next blinding pain he carefully looked over at the man when the burning pain didn't come and he wondered why the man was just holding the cane midair without lowering it over his bare back. Daring to risk a closer look he noticed that there was a hand holding Creighton's wrist, the man looking startled.

"I would not move one single muscle if I were you, Creighton, not even for an inch." Snape's voice came from behind, hard, cold and merciless and Harry couldn't help shivering. A moment later the Potions Master pulled Creighton's arm down, snatching the cane out of the man's hand. The crack of wood snapping into pieces was heard and another moment later Snape threw the broken pieces away from him with one harsh but fluid movement, the pieces hitting the wall before they fell to the stony floor with a clattering sound.

He had noticed Harry flinching upon each and every of those sounds, the thin body trembling and shivering and his rage only increased to unknown heights upon seeing the boy standing there with his still so frail upper body uncovered, dark red welts already forming on the bony back and his hands leaning against the wall, still not daring to leave the wall, to move at all. And considering the fine tracks of perspiration that ran down the boy's bare back he was sure that it was not only the cold this time but pain and fear as well that had him trembling.

"If I ever catch you near my son, just _looking_ at my son or _speaking_ to my son ever again – then be assured, you will not survive it!" He hissed before he flicked his wand and had the man secured against the wall and unable to move.

Carefully he approached the boy who by now had his forehead leaning against the wall too, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs and slowly he lifted one hand to place it over the soaked and trembling shoulder.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A hand grabbing him from behind had him squealing startled for a moment and he clutched the pear he was holding close to his chest or he would have lost it and for a moment he was sure that it was Creighton again.

"Unhand that boy, Filch!" A harsh voice suddenly ordered from behind and – again, just like a few days ago – Harry couldn't help sighing with relief. Again his father was here to safe his sorry behind.

"Not this time, Professor!" Filch hissed, smirking and tightening the grip he had on his upper arm so that Harry nearly cried out. "Caught him red handed stealing food from the kitchens. He'll pay this time."

"As far as I am aware, Filch, it is not yet illegal for the students to carry food with them, nor going into the kitchens for a snack." Snape growled darkly and Harry immediately knew that the Professor tried to keep his voice calm. "And now, unhand him!"

Well, Filch did, even if reluctantly only and even though he did with an accusing, betrayed stare at Snape who up to now always had overtaken the students he had caught for punishments, and the Potions Master threw a furious glance at him upon which the caretaker quickly strolled away, down the corridor, Miss Norris running behind him with her tail straight in the air as if to say – next time.

"Do you _have_ to get in constant trouble, Mr. Snape?" The Potions Master demanded a moment later when the caretaker was out of ear shot.

"I'm trying, Professor." The boy said and Snape at once knew – he was desperate and scared. There was no _'dad'_ or _'Severus'_ not even a _'sir'_ but a _'Professor'_. The boy had used the term 'dad' more often lately, aside from 'Severus' and he only rarely called him 'sir' anymore, only if he knew that the situation was serious or that he was in trouble. But for the boy to call him by his title – _'Professor'_ – it was one very huge step backwards – one he didn't like.

"I do know that, Harry." The Potions Master sighed, watching the boy rubbing his upper arm where Filch had held him. "Come, child." He said, leading the boy into his office. "I would like to have a look at your arm."

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Leaving his room and stepping into the parlour Harry gasped in pure shock the moment his eyes fell at the large tree. Not that he had not seen this tree the evening before, he had decorated it together with Severus after all. But what was _beneath_ the tree shocked him to the very core and for a moment he simply stood there, not able to move.

Severus watched the boy who hadn't noticed him sitting in the parlour yet, remembering the child's comment the evening before. _'I like it, even though there won't be much beneath it.'_ He had waited until Harry had snuck out of his room, two small packages in his hand that he had placed beneath the tree and he had known that they were for Theodore and him, Snape.

He had been touched by the gesture, the boy having thought of him at Christmas. He then had waited until Theodore as well had crept out of his own room and had placed two small packages beneath the tree as well. After that he had waited a bit longer until he could be sure that both boys finally were sleeping, and then he had waved his wand to place his own boxes he had prepared beneath the tree, knowing that by morning at least Albus and Minerva as well as Filius, and the Weasleys would have done the same – aside from who else would use his floo tonight as a chimney for playing Santa Claus.

The boy's large green eyes straying over to him, Severus, he could see the changes running over the pale face – the small smile vanishing, the longing changing into sadness and the eyes growing startled, the boy taking a step backwards before turning towards the kitchen with a murmured "I'll go and make breakfast", most likely scared that he would consider him greedy if he watched the presents beneath the tree any longer.

"Stop, Harry." He called the boy back who turned unsurely back towards him. "Come here."

"I … I'm sorry … I just …" The boy said, looking at the floor and slowly – slower than he would have done normally, than he liked – coming closer, stopping a few steps before the armchair and he himself stood.

"There is no need for you to make breakfast, son." He said, trying to sound calm and casual. "And surely not today. Zilly will prepare something soon and until then we simply are meant to – _enjoy_ – this infuriating holiday." Yet, he clearly could see that the teen simply was still so unsure and confused – he realized that they still would have to go a very long way, each new situation bringing back bad memories to the boy, memories of being neglected and abused, and calmly he crossed the space between them.

"It is alright child." He said, taking the young teenager by his arm and leading him over to the sofa, seated them both at the furniture. "Those presents, Harry, a lot of them are for _you_. You still do not see your own value and you still think that you do not deserve them, but you do, child, and so much more than what you have gotten before. You are a good child, despite of what I always tell you, being an imbecile. You do deserve a happy Christmas for once in your live, you foolish child, and I do intend giving this to you."

"I'm sorry …" The blasted boy again apologized. "It's just that … there are so many of them and … I just didn't know what to do …"

Yes, he could imagine that, could hear the desperation in the boy's voice.

"Maybe you just start with one small package." He quietly said, summoning the smallest of the ones that were addressed to the boy. "And we will see where we get from there. You have all day for unpacking them if you so wish, you do not have to unpack them all at once if they are too much for you to handle." He said, realizing that this was the same situation as it was with the child's eating troubles – a simple slice of toast being too large for the boy to handle so that he had to cut it in half before he was able eating it, because the large slice of toast was simply scaring him.

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"Dumbledore said he would reinvestigate my case in front of the Wizengamot." Sirius said excitedly. "You know what that means, don't you? You can live with me! I'll be your legal guardian as soon as I'm free."

"But we don't know each other …" Harry said. He did not want to appear ungrateful, he liked Sirius but he did not really know how to balance another adult in his life. Not to mention that he _did have_ Severus and he did not want to have another guardian. Severus was his father, he didn't _need_ another guardian.

"Harry." The man said, reaching out to touch Harry and he pulled back a little. He averted his eyes when Sirius' face fell. "We'll get to know each other and you'll live with me, don't worry, really. Your parents made me your godfather and I'll adopt you the moment I'm free finally."

Well, the only thing Harry right now was feeling – was the panic building up in him.

He liked Sirius, the man was alright to be around him for an hour or two, but to live with him? That would mean leaving his father, leaving the one person who had kept him not only alive but sane as well during the past few months now, the one person that looked out for him, the one person who kept him going, the one person who … no, he couldn't do that, _wouldn't_ do that.

"I … I have Severus …"

"Snape isn't the father you need, Harry!" Sirius seriously said. "Anyone could do better than that git! And he is too harsh with you anyway! He punishes you ways too often!"

"He loves me and … and I love him." He protested, not knowing why Sirius was so persistent on this and why he always denunciated the Potions Master so much. "He is good for me, Sirius … you know how my life was before him … my relatives … I was only a burden to them … but Severus cares for me and for what I do and that I'm happy. He only wants me to be safe and to be healthy and … and to learn. He is a good father. Even if he punishes me sometimes."

"Harry, you don't have any experience with having a father …" Sirius protested.

"No, but I talk with my friends, you know?" He shook his head. He wanted to go home now, and away from Sirius. He was scared and his stomach hurt. "I know that Mr. Weasley punishes Ron too sometimes … as does Hermione's father or any other father … I like what I have."

"But … I'll treat you better." The man promised and Harry's stomach aches grew. "I'll never tell you when to go to bed or take your broom away or punish you … I'll always make you happy … you'll see! You'll live with me soon and then you'll see."

The moment Sirius smiled at him dismissingly Harry ran out of the classroom, his fists gripping the shirt over his stomach that hurt more and more and straight to the dungeons, nearly crying, desperately. His worst fear had come true – he would lose Severus. Sirius would take him away and he would lose Severus!

He barely could breathe with fear the moment he ran into their quarters and when he caught sight of the Potions Master he actually thought he would suffocate, grabbed the shirt over his chest in an attempt to get a breath into his lungs – one way or another.

"You are early, any problems at the meeting with Black?" He heard the man asking and he was glad to hear the calmness and worry in his voice instead of the usual sarcasm he had expected, but at the same time this was his undoing. After Sirius had said that Snape wouldn't care about Harry … well he simply wasn't able to keep his damn tears from falling at the man's always so calm voice.

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Severus left the kitchen the moment he heard the door to his quarters banging open violently and with a scowl on his face he went into the parlour, ready to scold Harry for the racket he was causing but when his eyes fell on the boy who barely was able to breathe, pulling his T-Shirt in an attempt to take a breath, the face pale and a mask of distress – he quickly started walking towards the teen, crossed his arms in front of his chest so that the boy would not be scared of his hands and he looked at Harry, searching for an answer to his unspoken question to what had happened on his face.

"You are early, any problems at the meeting with Black?" He asked, and a moment later the blasted boy actually started crying, worrying him nearly out of his wits. The boy had nearly died just two months ago and even back then he had not cried. They had been locked into the potions classroom with barely anything edible and for three entire weeks, and even back then the boy barely had cried. So – what horrifying thing had happened right now that the child lost it and actually choked on his sobs?

Slowly taking the teen by his shoulders he steered him to the sofa to sit him down there, the boy allowing him doing so without a fuss for a moment but before he had the boy sitting on the sofa Harry leaned against him, his face smearing snot and tears at the shirt over his chest and he folded his own arms around the shaking shoulders, holding the child until the sobs subsided, only running calming circles over the still so bony back.

"What happened, son?" He asked when he thought that Harry was getting himself back under control.

"Sirius is going to take me away!" The boy cried out, fear and desperation clearly audible in his voice and he nearly was back to gasping for breath. "The adoption … it's permanent, isn't it? He can't take me away … can he?"

"He wants to take you away?" Severus asked startled, his brows furrowed. He had expected many things when he had agreed to the boy visiting that blasted mutt for tea once a fortnight but surely not that! Of course Harry would panic upon such a comment from the mutt – and his face darkened.

"He said that … that my parents named him my godfather and that once his name were cleared he could adopt me and take me away with him … that he would take me away from you …" The boy hitched out and Severus finally took Harry to the sofa and sat him down before he went back into the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea and added half a vial of a calming draught to it. He took it back to Harry and made him drink it in slow sips.

"Do not worry, child." He said, simply keeping his hand laying on the boy's shoulder-blade while thinking of all the most evil things he would like to bestow upon that blasted mangy mutt. "The adoption is valid and Black can do nothing to get you away against your wish."

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It was Saturday and Harry had just had his latest check-up with Madam Pomfrey and right now he was almost skipping on his way to tell Severus that he was allowed to use his _entire_ magic once again. Of course he knew that it wouldn't be the _last_ check up he'd have, but right now he didn't mind, because he'd had to hold back in his magic for the past few weeks and the fact that he was allowed to use it completely again now, it was as if he had found a part of him that he had lost. Never before had he noticed how much his magic was a part of him until the first of September this year and it had startled him – as well as the knowledge that barely a wizard was so deeply aware of their own magic as were he and the others now, after they had been locked in the potions classroom without their magic for three weeks.

He didn't find Severus in their quarters and with a smirk on his face that – without his notice – looked startling alike the one his father so often wore, he placed his wand at his palm and whispered a quiet "point me Severus", again smiling at the spinning the wand did. Following the wand the moment it became still he ran through the corridors, upstairs, through the entrance hall and then outside and over to the older wizard who stood beside Hereweald on the large lawn to the left of the front yard and not for the first time he wondered about the similarity of the two dark men.

He ran over the lawn and launched himself at Severus who looked down at him, startled for a moment at the sight of the boy who was flinging himself towards him, and he thanked Merlin for his quick reflexes or he wouldn't have managed catching the little imp.

"Severus! Severus! Dad!" The boy squealed into his ear while nearly choking him with his thin arms that wound themselves around his neck in a startling strong grip. "Madam Pomfrey said I can use all my magic again! I don't have to hold back anymore!"

Severus nearly smiled at the boy, too flabbergasted at the outburst to watch his own facial muscles. Even after all those weeks he now lived with the boy – it was still amazing at how old Harry acted sometimes while he at other times could revert to behaving like a small, little child in situations that he had never experienced before. And this situation here, throwing himself at an adult to tell him great news, being caught and then held by said adult and being listened to said excited news – this was one of those situations the boy never before had experienced as there never before had been an adult in the child's life who had cared enough for doing so.

There simply seemed to be no normal fourteen year old boy – Harry was either four or he was forty. And the fact that the boy still had the build of a skinny and barely ten year old child didn't help the strange image he so often displayed either.

Before he was able to stop himself in his own excitement, the Potions Master grabbed the boy around the waist, lowered him to the lawn and started tickling the little imp, for once not caring the audience he had in his old friend.

A moment later however he himself went pale when the boy screamed and curled into a tight ball, his arms thrown over his head in a clear way of self-protection, his thin body shaking uncontrollably, the little muscles locking in that position so that nothing and no one would be able to draw him out of that tight little ball he had become while holding his breath as if he even wanted to tighten the muscles around his lungs – clearly having flashbacks about that blasted uncle of his and the Potions Master immediately let go of the child, crouching down on the lawn next to his son and gently placing his hand at the child's bent back, softly talking to him and trying to get him out of the panic attack he clearly was trapped in.

"Hush, child. It's me, Severus." He said with a calmness he didn't feel and he cast a quick, helpless gaze towards Hereweald before he concentrated back at his son. "I am sorry, child, I did not mean to frighten you. It is alright, calm down, Harry. Your uncle is not here and he won't be able to hurt you ever again. It is just you, Hereweald and me, and none of us will hurt you, just release your breath and calm down, concentrate on my voice and try to calm down. Come now, release your breath, Harry, you can do that. You are safe here with me."

It took him a few minutes of over and over again trying to tell the boy that he was there and that he wouldn't allow anyone to hurt him, minutes during which the boy only every now and then had released his breath before taking one long and shuddering breath again, holding it again, but then he finally started to breathe more and more normally, to take calmer breaths and started to slowly uncurl, as if slowly relaxing muscle for muscle.

Carefully starting to run his hand over the child's back in small circles, ignoring the frightened boy's terrified shudders he slowly pulled his son closer until he held him in his arms, noticing that slowly but surely the child's breathing evened out a bit, became regular at least, noticing that even if they were still shuddered breathes the child finally started to relax into his arms, and even if the boy started to cling to him as if his life depended on this grip, still was as white as chalk – but at least Harry was calming down.

"I am sorry, Harry." He said, taking a deep breath himself. "It has not been my intention to startle you and next time you play a human arrow aimed at me I will try to keep my own excitement under control."

"No, I'm sorry." The boy finally answered, his voice still trembling. "I'm sorry, I was just startled. It wasn't your fault … I just … please don't …"

"It is alright, child." The Potions Master said when Harry drifted off and he gently ran his fingers through the unruly black mop of hair while still holding the child in a tight and protective embrace. "It is alright. Next time I simply will start slower so that you can see my face before I start attacking you. I am sure it will be alright if you have the chance to read my face first and therefore see that I am not angry at you."

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Harry still was clinging to him while Draco had his face hidden in the crook of Neville's neck who was crying softly himself. Hermione was clinging to Ronald and the red-haired boy definitely looked shocked too. The others were either sitting there, staring ahead, calmly meanwhile, or still crying silently.

For a moment Severus watched Harry and the other children with a tight feeling in his chest but he did not have the time to do much right now. They had been together for the past hour and he had tried to comfort all of them as good as possible, but now he had a floo call to make, one he dreaded and hoped he would never have to make again – a floo call to tell parents about the loss of a child, what was one of the hardest things Severus ever had done.

He would be back to comfort them in an hour or two, but now he had to go this path – never mind how hard it was for himself.

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**To be continued i****n "A few days more":**

_The seventeen Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth year students __together with Professor Snape have survived twenty-one days of captivity in the dungeon classroom due to a potions accident and an attack of Death Eaters, without real food. Now they are free, but how will they all deal with the aftermath of those days that had bound them together? That had united them? How will the rest of Hogwarts students react to the sudden friendship between the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins? Will they be able to keep their friendships up and will Severus be able to deal with them now that they have to heal and are no longer imprisoned in the dungeons? Will all of them survive the aftermath or will some of them be too weak and die after all?  
_

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, this story … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


	31. author's note

**Title:**

Twenty-one days

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle unfolds its own magic. Can some students survive the next twenty-one days?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of _'The deathly hallows'_? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that _'Harry Potter'_ does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in twenty-one days**

_"Eat!" He softly ordered, his voice however not allowing contradictions. "And eat slowly. Use the spoons." He knew how tired they were and that most of them probably wouldn't bother eating anything, their tiredness, their exhaustion overshadowing their hunger that had become something they had gotten used to anyway, but he also knew how important it was. "You do not have to finish it, but I want you to at least try it." Not only was it important that they ate something at all, but that they ate together right now. They had survived together, and they should end this together. "And if you feel sick, then just say so and I will give you a stomach potion."_

_He watched them eating, spooning their soup, broth only, but it was good to know that they were able to eat something, that they actually had something to eat. Not everyone was out of the woods yet, he knew, and his gaze wandered over Harry and Theodore, brushed even Draco, Tracy and Parvati, but they actually had real chances now. They would survive, he just had to believe in it, just like he had believed that they would make it out of the dungeons alive._

**Twenty-one days**

**A few days more  
**

**Announcement**

Some of you have asked me to place a note here at "Twenty-one days" the moment I will publish the sequel "A few days more" and as I am an obedient author … *loool* about that … I hereby inform you that:

**In a few minutes I will publish "A few days more" here at ff … you will reach the story by visiting my profile**

Once more I do thank all of you for reading "21 days", for reviewing "21 days" and for showing so much and deep emotions while reading and reviewing … may the sequel be as successful as was this story here … thank you …

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**September 13th, 2013**

**Dear readers,**

just wish to inform you about another story – "… and sit a while with me …" – which will shortly start on the Profile of mrs. trabi here on fanfiction.

you will find some known persons in this story, and you will find one or another known incident in the story because the author of the story is me, even though I am posting this story not on my own profile but on my daughter's, and for several reasons so – one of it being because it's a rather unique story compared to my others.

more details you will learn while visiting mrs. trabi's profile:

www fanfiction net /u/2473886/mrs-trabi

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**To be continued i****n "A few days more":**

___"Oh, shut it, you threefold blasted idiot!" The Potions Master growled at the man before looking down at the boy and slowly taking his hand from the rash Gryffindor's mouth. "Hereweald Hrothgar is a very old and a very close friend of mine and he of course did not imply that the past twenty-one days have been anyone's fault at all. He just is unable of keeping this blasted mouth of his and behaves in ways so one might think he would have been a bloody Gryffindor had he attended Hogwarts. So there will be no need to get overly emotional over anything he is giving away – as much as I appreciate your thoughtfulness, child."_

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

708 - Gryffindor - Head of House: Catlady

701 - Slytherin - Head of House: evil minded

576 - Ravenclaw - Head of House: Arithmancy Master

340 - Hufflepuff - Head of House: still a free post


End file.
